


Spinal Tap

by AveragePotato



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Dark, Flowey Is A Dick, Horror, Other, Papyrus Is Too Tired For This Shit, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slice of Life, Time Loop, Timeline Shenanigans, cosmic horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 15:09:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 33
Words: 130,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20509037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AveragePotato/pseuds/AveragePotato
Summary: Papyrus was fine.He got up in the morning. He set traps and puzzles. He was always ready to face the day.Then he started remembering things.Papyrus was no longer fine.





	1. The Good Day

0-0-0-0-0

**Prologue.**

_I just want you to know._

_It wasn't your fault._

_There are a lot of things that I wish that I could explain to you, and I know that this is probably a pretty shoddy excuse of one. For that, too, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough. I'm sorry I wasn't better for you. I'm sorry for everything. Neither of us could have predicted this. I know it's not fair. I know it's not right._

_So I'm going to make it right._

_I've made my decision. And I want you to commit to memory exactly that. It is NOT your fault. This was my choice, something I have to do. I only have one final thing to ask of you. Just one request._

_Don't forget._

0-0-0-0-0

0-0-0-0-0

All things considered, it was shaping up to be a pretty good day.

The weather had been nice and tempered for a while after their last scheduled blizzard. It had been a doozy, too, since everyone was getting more and more hyped with Giftmas spirit, there was plenty of magic to spare for a bit of community weather alteration for the upcoming festivities.

Granted, not necessarily _everyone_ put in effort, but Papyrus couldn't say that he was all too surprised.

It was through all of this previously welcomed weather that he trudged, hiking his lanky frame as high as he could to march through the snow. He frowned slightly as he reached a wooden sentry station, noting just how much had been cleared away.

Which was to say, none.

“Sans, for crying out loud!” the 'armored' skeleton threw up his gloved hands, eye sockets narrowing dangerously as he eyed a blue lump. “You had _one_ job!”

“Actually,” said lump lifted a smaller skeletal finger through the crumpled coat, eventually revealing a bone pudge wearing a smirk. “I have several jobs. Which means several breaks. Which I'm on right now,” Sans continued with a wink.

“Sans, this isn't the time for tomfoolery!” Papyrus stamped a foot through what must have been a yard of snow. He glowered at the shorter monster, both skeletons locking eye lights for a moment before Sans returned sleepily to his elbow pillow, snugly burying his face into the crook of his arm.

“... SANS.”

Sans jolted and jerked upright, his eternally wide grin stretching just a bit.

“What?” he chortled quietly. “It'll get done, we can _rest easy_ knowin' that.”

“Sans,” Papyrus said dangerously, crossing his arms and tapping his foot. Or at least he tried to, he couldn't even see the tops of his boots through all of the snow.

“I can't help it if I can sleep anywhere,” he was propped up on his elbow now, fully alert and grinning with a dread inducing grin, a promise of the awful puns to come. Papyrus could feel it in his... something. He wasn't going there. “You know me, nappin' rain, sleet, _snore _shine.”

“Sans you are _killing me,_” Papyrus shrieked, his head pounding with the effort it took not to give the lazy monster a piece of his mind. “Come on, brother! We can't just _laze about_ all day, we have to have this cleared away in case a human comes through!”

“Kinda surprised you're not more eager about Giftmas 'round the corner,” Sans yawned sleepily, slouching back onto the wooden counter top of his sentry station while keeping his tired gaze on the frantic skeleton before him.

Papyrus only stared at him for a moment before he resumed what he had been doing.

Which was, once again, cleaning up his brother's mess.

“Giftmas can wait,” Papyrus huffed as he summoned a humongous towering bone easily twice his height with a snap of his gloved fingers. “I love Santa and all, he's a great guy and he's super cool, but if we don't get this snow cleared there won't be any way for humans to get through!” he magically hauled piles of snow off the side of the buried road with an improvised shovel made entirely out of smaller bones, slowly heaving and pushing both physically and magically. “And then if we don't catch a human, how are we supposed to teach them the joys of Giftmas giving _and also more importantly promote me to the head of the royal guard_,” he added with a heated stare, “and if no humans can get through then who is supposed to test our _puzzles?_”

Sans only stared back at him for a while and Papyrus quietly bit his tongue and looked away, focusing on his task of shoveling snow out of the way however he could. Papyrus wasn't  _bad_ at puzzles, he really wasn't. In fact, he was just as good at making them as he was solving them. But they both knew why Papyrus's 'human traps' were confined to the very furthest corner of the Snowdin forest. Granted, Papyrus had taken it all in stride, claiming it to be part of his master human catching plan, since it was so close to the old ruins and if a human was going to come through again it would likely be through there. Papyrus forgave them. He always did.

But it still stung.

That gate was still up not too far away, draped in the snowdrifts and staring back at him mockingly. But he'd worked for days chopping wood for that gate, and the only way across was over the bridge. And if by some miracle a fallen human managed to make it that far, they'd be subjected to his multitude of terrifying terrific traps and ghastly ghoulish gauntlets, by the end of which any sane human would be begging for capture. He was quite proud of himself for those.

Someone had to be.

“I, uh...” Sans finally coughed into his fist. Papyrus jumped a little, almost having forgotten that his brother was still there, and even more surprised that he was conscious. Papyrus had gotten lost in the sound of shoveling, working steadily down the road as cold sweat dripped from his skeletal brow, and he paused long enough to lean on the magical makeshift shovel and glance at the staring monster.

“I would really appreciate some help, Sans,” he said quietly, which was still loud enough to carry for at least six miles by Sans' estimation. “Everyone else in Snowdin has been doing their best with clean up. Why do you have to be like this?”

Papyrus regretted it as soon as he'd said it, his soul feeling several times heavier as Sans cringed and almost seemed to deflate, curling up inside his oversized coat.

“... 'm sorry bro,” Sans' muffled meager mumble was barely heard, but Papyrus understood anyway. He swallowed hard and tried to shake his head, not realizing that more falling snow was already piling up atop his cranium.

“It's-it's fine, brother,” Papyrus stomped through the snow to stand before him, kneeling a bit to help with the drastic height difference. It must have been such a pain on everyone around him to constantly be craning their necks just to look him in the eye sockets. He wanted to be looked up to, sure, just maybe not so literally all the time. “Sans, you have bags under your eye sockets. Have-have you slept at all?”

“Yeah of course,” he chuckled a little too quickly, a little too humorlessly. “As much as I can get away with.”

Papyrus also conveniently managed to 'forget' to mention just how strongly his brother reeked of smoke, booze and ketchup.

Papyrus stood silently, the summoned instrument in one hand feeling much heavier than it had before.

“Go home.”

“Can't,” Sans' grin faded just a bit. “Gotta watch fer humans.”

“Sans,” his patience snapped just a few more threads. “You are in no condition to work right now. It's all over your face!”

Sans responded by wiping his face with the crook of his elbow. Papyrus groaned and facepalmed, shaking his head before whipping out his arm with a sharp  _crack_ , finger bone pointing the way like a basset hound hot on the trail.

“Sans. You. Bed. _Now,_” Papyrus insisted loudly, watching as his brother reeled a bit and rubbed the sides of his head with his wrists.

“Need th' extra hours-” he started before he was cut off by a sudden case of not being vertical.

Sans blinked in confusion, his head reeling. He'd  _felt_ his soul grabbed by blue magic, but he hadn't really noticed when.

“... Oh hey Paps,” Sans gave up struggling in record time, letting himself be carried on his brother's shoulder. “So this is what the weather up here is like.”

“Sans, you are _drunk._”

“Pfffft, wha~t?” he was pretty sure he'd lost his slipper at some point, yet another fact that Papyrus didn't want to point out. “Naw. I'm not _drunk_, bro, don't worry. I'm just _tipsy_ is all, y'know how it is, it's _fine._”

“Absolutely nothing about this is fine,” Papyrus said through gritted teeth before his tone softened, making sure to keep his grip on his brother firm. “I am worried half to death about you, Sans. I don't know what's going on, but the fact that you won't even _talk_ about it, it, it-it... just hurts, Sans.”

Sans fell silent for the longest time, letting Papyrus trudge in absolute silence, their only company the snowflakes compelled downward in unearthly quiet.

“...'s not like it matters,” Papyrus heard Sans mumble drunkenly. He stopped midstride, moving much faster than he had been considering so much closer to Snowdin had been properly cleared from the roads, and as a result the stop was so jarring that Sans was nearly thrown from his shoulder in spite of his grip. Papyrus carefully cradled the skeleton, firmly pretending not to be bothered by the painfully silent flood of tears streaking down his brother's face. It didn't take long for Papyrus's bravado to crack and he squeezed his little big brother tightly to his chest. It hurt to see him like this, it burned, it made his soul _ache_ so terribly to see him in torment.

“Sans come on,” Papyrus choked, unable to keep from kneeling in the snow for fear of dropping him. “Big bones don't cry. It's going to be okay. I promise. Big bones don't cry.”

“Then what're you doin'?” Sans limply tried to pull out of his grasp before giving in entirely, unable to look him in the face.

“I'm crying because _you're_ crying,” he sputtered. “And it's not crying anyway, I'm too tough for that! I just... I just have something in my eyes!”

“Like what?”  
“_TEARS!_” he wailed, yanking his brother closer and wringing him side to side, earning a surprisingly 'strangled cat' noise from him. “I can't _stand_ seeing you like this, brother!”

“It's _fine,_” Sans hacked up what might have been a half forced laugh. “Damn, bro, you're gonna snap me like a photo.”

“That's not funny Sans,” Papyrus cleared his throat forcefully, embarrassed by how loud he'd gotten without meaning to as he wiped his eye sockets with his gloves. “Your health really does scare me sometimes. You worry me.”

“Is there anything you don't worry about?” Sans slurred conversationally, clearly comfortable in his lap cradle.

“I only worry about what's important to me.”

_That_ seemed to shut him down for a moment.

Papyrus stayed with his brother like that for quite some time, kneeling in the snow and cradling him, his slightly faded cape dancing in the breeze. Neither of them moved or spoke, both uncertain of what to say, both reaching the same conclusion that it might be better not to say anything. And that was how most of their morning went.

“... Thanks. For... fer everythin'.”

“Don't mention it. I do love you, brother.”

“Love you too, bro,” he said quietly as he hugged him.

“Let's get you home, Sans.”

“... It's pretty good nobody's watchin' this,” Sans gazed up into his brother's eye sockets after what felt like hours, his smarmy grin already returning (which was both good and bad, actually) in force. “Gotta say. We probably look _prett~y_ gay.”

“Don't be a homophobe, Sans!” Papyrus stared at him with wide eye sockets, pushing himself to his feet to carry them home swiftly.

“I'm not,” he gave a lazy shrug as his grin widened. “But you know townies like ta _gossip_, and I always said somebody great would sweep me off my feet-”

Sans let out a disgruntled noise as he landed face first into a snowdrift. He pulled his face up with a  _pop_ before pausing, then stuffing his thumb between his teeth and blowing. Snow  _burst_ out of every orifice in his face in a huge puff, and he stared eagerly up to his thoroughly disgusted looking brother with a look that could only be described as 'eh?  _ehhhhh?_ '

“Sans so help me god,” Papyrus pinched the bridge of his nostril bone.

“Come on, bro. You're smiling.”

“I am, and I _HATE IT!_” he threw up his arms wildly before letting out a dramatic sigh, letting them fall with a clack to his sides. He knelt to help him up, extending a hand to the woozy skeleton with a genuine smile. “Let's get you home, brother. We'll... we'll worry about catching a human another day.”

“Finally, procrastination!” Sans tittered eagerly a bare moment after Papyrus realized in shocked horror what he had just exclaimed. “I _knew_ you had it in you!”

“Sans no!” he blurted, dragging him faster towards Snowdin. “We just have to get you into better shape so that you'll be better at catching humans! That's all!”

“Why didn't ya say you wanted a vacation?” Sans cackled hysterically as he was, quite literally, dragged by the wrist through the ice and powder.

“No no no _no,_ I am _not_ lazy!” Papyrus screeched, hiking his legs up faster and harder before swinging his brother around in a single movement to haul him by the stomach. “This has _nothing_ to do with procrastination, you hear me? I will _not_ be a bad example, Sans, I swear it!”

“Maybe we can ditch our jobs tomorrow, too!” Sans egged him on further as Papyrus leapt over puzzles, knowing that he'd gone too far and unable to stop laughing long enough to care.

“NO-HOHO _HOOOO_!” he belted, streaking lightning fast through Snowdin past numerous surprised monsters only to kick the door to the house open and carry him inside. Sans would have pointed out that he'd kicked the door open the wrong way if he could stop giggling to himself long enough to do so.

0-0-0-0-0

It had taken work.

It had taken all night, actually.

But as he leaned against his shovel, staring out over the perfectly cleaned and paved snowy walkway leading to the ancient sealed doors of the ruins, Papyrus felt just a twinge of satisfaction. It looked  _good._

Maybe, someday, if anyone other than he or his brother ever bothered to come through, all of his hard work might eventually be recognized. He sighed and hauled the borrowed shovel from the shed over his shoulder, the physical thing much heavier than what he'd been using previously but at least it got the job done. He'd have whistled on his way back, if he had lips.

Not like that stopped him from trying, of course.

He could pretend that Sans had actually done his job and would prevent a lecture. Surely his brother would appreciate that.

He could pretend that he wasn't really as excited about Giftmas as so many others, because cool people like Undyne didn't do that, definitely not. Undyne was way too awesome to stress about Santa, because she would probably suplex Santa if given the opportunity. Papyrus  _really_ hoped that she didn't get the opportunity.

He could pretend that someday he would actually accomplish anything he'd claimed he would. Capture nefarious human ne'er-do-wells with his delicious traps, be promoted to captain of the royal guard, and save all of monsterkind with his bravery and heroics and incredible dashing good looks.

If he tried hard enough, he could even pretend not to notice that he was being watched again. So that's what Papyrus did. He stiffened his back, straightened his step, and failed to whistle just a little bit more cheerfully as he marched back after a job well done knowing full well that no matter how hard he tried he wouldn't be sleeping again tonight and that was still okay.

All things considered, it was shaping up to be a pretty good day.

0-0-0-0-0

“... The wishing stones sure are beautiful tonight, huh?”

Of course, Papyrus received no immediate answer. That was alright. He had expected as much. Sometimes there was only dead silence. But he could sense his compatriot fidgeting, just out of the corner of his eye socket in a little flicker of movement.

“You know,” Papyrus continued, leaning back and letting the snow sidle up to his elbows. “You've been quiet for some while now. You know that if you ever want to talk, I'm always here, right?”

“I know,” came the low tone from the flower, stem craned like a neck to stare up at the ceiling. “You always were my favorite.”

“You're my favorite too, Flowey!” he beamed down at him, though what effect it had was vacuous at best. The little bundle curled in on itself further, petals closing toward his face just a bit more. Papyrus couldn't quite grasp what sort of reaction it was supposed to be, but after a moment it was gone, leaving him wondering if it was just a part of his imagination.

“It won't be long now, you know,” Flowey spoke up at long last. Papyrus perked ever so slightly, careful not to even rustle his scarf too much so not to miss anything. If he had been paying a bit closer attention, he might have noticed just how much Flowey was enjoying having an audience cling to his every word. A single droplet fell from an icicle somewhere in the forest nearby, and it felt like he could hear it from a mile away. “They'll be here. Soon.”

“Well, it's not like you've been wrong _before_, but...” Papyrus scratched his chin with the back of his gloved hand. “How can you be so certain?”

“Silly Papyrus,” Flowey tittered in that odd little way that sounded as if he'd never laughed before. “I'm certain of lots of things. Usually for a reason. But you needn't worry your little bony head about it,” he winked, and Papyrus could have sworn he saw a little star pop from his eye. “You should be getting ready! After all, you wouldn't want to be caught _unprepared_ for the human, would you?”

Papyrus started to respond before he bit his tongue, trying not to show his worry.

“I understand that you and I don't exactly see eye to eye socket on some things,” Papyrus began carefully. “But are you really _sure_ that this human coming is such a good thing?”

“Whatever do you mean, Papyrus?” Flowey responded with that same practiced tone. Like he'd heard it all before. Papyrus started to voice his opinion before he shook his head, sitting up a bit straighter.

“Maybe-maybe we shouldn't just _attack_ them on sight?” Papyrus asked, the tentativeness in his voice showing through. Flowey was giving him that strange look again. “I know that you're worried, little friend, but... maybe if we show this human how nice and cool monsters are, things will turn out for the better!”

Papyrus waited for Flowey to scold him again, or maybe give him that sardonic skeptical look. For a moment he thought that he saw him shaking from the cold and started to offer his scarf before he realized that Flowey was laughing at him.

“It's always something new with you,” Flowey sounded, for the first time in a very long while, almost _genuinely_ happy. But it was gone in seconds, leaving the flower to resume his usual friendly smile. Or at least, Papyrus assumed it was supposed to be friendly. Maybe that was just his face. “You really are my favorite.”  
“You've been saying that a lot lately. Flowey, is everything okay?” he shifted worriedly.

“Of course, silly. Tee hee,” came that rehearsed mockery of laughter once more. “Why ever would you think otherwise?”

“Maybe it's the recent declaration of intent to murder?” Papyrus offered helpfully.

“Oh, are you _sure_ I said anything like that?” he asked in a playful tone.

“I'm pretty sure that 'split them in half' can only be taken a certain number of ways, little friend.”

“Don't worry. You'll forget soon enough.”

That certainly wasn't ominous at all. But Flowey was just like that sometimes. Papyrus knew deep down that the tiny monster was harmless. Despite his sometimes... _strange_ requests.

“All you have to do is stick to the plan,” it was like he _sensed_ his discomfort. And Papyrus had been very careful not to let it show. Or at least, he thought it did. He let out a noiseless sigh through his nostril bone, a little puff of steam billowing into the night air.

“But what if things aren't as they seem?”  
“They rarely are, Papyrus...” Flowey muttered before perking up again. “Why, before you know it you'll be head of the royal guard. Wouldn't that be nice for you?”

“Well, certainly, but-” he shifted uneasily, pulling his scarf just a bit closer. “- just because I bring King Asgore a human doesn't mean everything will just be _fine._ You said yourself that he hasn't had the, well... best _track record_ with them.”

“That's an understatement, really,” Flowey said through his teeth. “Why are you being so stubborn all of a sudden?”

A _burst_ of earth went flying, and the ripping tendrils of snow danced down through the air around them. Papyrus's head spun, and he could have sworn that the whole world had just _tilted_ for such a brief moment that it was almost unnoticeable. It was altogether very strange, but just like that everything was normal again, and suddenly it was much more difficult to remember why it was so hard to breathe a moment ago. He discovered that he was unconsciously pressing a gloved hand to his aching ribs, the fleeting memory as tumultuous and transient as it was vibrant.

Why was it so hard to _breathe?_

“That's an understatement, really,” Flowey said calmly. Papyrus blinked, his head pounding for some reason. “Just make sure that you're in place this time. Okie dokie?” that small smile widened, his canines glinting in the dim light. Papyrus wasn't able to reply before the flower tittered again. His soul _burned_ for a very brief instant and Papyrus found himself clutching his chest again, the small flower waiting almost expectantly. He felt as if he had downed one of those nasty drinks from Grillby's that his brother liked so much.

“It still seems like an awfully mean thing to do to a new visitor...” Papyrus shifted and rubbed his hands together. He did not feel the chill like most other monsters might, but that look Flowey kept giving him – it was just a bit chilling.

“You do _want_ to be in the royal guard? _Don't _you, Papyrus?”

“Of course!” he blurted. “That's as high up on the chain as it goes, after all.”  
“... _Well,_” Flowey started with a widening grin. But he didn't continue, just giving Papyrus a knowing stare.

There was that shiver again.

Papyrus sighed quietly, staring off into the distance where the trees grew so thick from the clearing that it was impossible to see through them as it was the future. But still he tried, straining his eye sockets with the effort, hoping against hope all the while. Maybe things would be different.

He was _determined._

“Why, are you feeling alright, Papyrus?” Flowey piped up eagerly.

“Just -” his tongue felt weirdly hot and heavy. He rubbed his palm over his thumping forehead. “Yes, everything is fine.”

If anything, he looked nearly... disappointed in the skeleton. But the look was gone when Papyrus spoke up again.

“Flowey, if you don't mind, I'm-I'm going to head back now,” Papyrus's marrow felt like it was trying to melt out of him, his limbs feeling so thick that it was a strain just to focus, let alone move. What exactly was wrong with him tonight, he wondered? His soul _hurt_ like it was falling apart. He was almost crying from the pain, but he kept it together as best he could to prevent his little friend from seeing. But Flowey's cheerful grin remained. Now, wider than ever. Did Flowey always have that many _teeth?_

“You go right ahead and rest, Papyrus,” Flowey nodded in approval. “After all, you've got such a _big day_ tomorrow. I get the feeling it's going to be one very long day for you. Tee hee hee.”

Papyrus stumbled as he rose, silently noting how quick Flowey was to vanish into the snow and soil. Stars above, his head was _throbbing_, had it always been this difficult just to walk? But Papyrus pushed himself onward in spite of this, absentmindedly rubbing his aching chest as he took long strides back towards Snowdin.

Flowey stealthily watched him go, burying the now empty syringe in a shallow grave with a smile.

Tomorrow was going to be a very good day indeed.

0-0-0-0-0


	2. Skelehog's Day

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus awoke, as he usually did, with a smile.

Today was a new day. He made sure to check off the Tuesday on his calendar, eager for a brand new day. Last night's spaghetti wasn't exactly _bad,_ but it definitely wasn't his best work. Maybe the extra ingredient's he'd added impromptu didn't help. Some more cooking tips from Undyne would definitely help, he would absolutely get better at it today. He'd gotten a healthy four hours of sleep, his boots were polished and ready for him to slip into and strap on, his awaiting battle body looked as cool as ever, and he was going to make today _his_ day.

The alarm was quickly silenced, and he lay in bed staring at the ceiling for only a moment before shaking his head. Sure, last night had been... well, very  _hazy_ , but he could manage that. It just happened sometimes. His soul still felt weary and aching as if he hadn't slept at all, but he was going to press forward no matter what.

“Today,” Papyrus proclaimed to himself as he dressed, “I catch a human. Sure, I said that yesterday, and the day before, and literally every day before-” he adjusted his scarf as he glanced at the hanging mirror on the back of his bedroom door. “But today is the day. I can feel it!”

He flexed hard in front of the mirror. It didn't seem to do much good. So he slipped on his favorite gloves and flexed even harder, in poses that he'd seen Undyne perform with ease. Then again, he didn't have muscles, so the effect wasn't quite as intimidating or impressive. But he tried regardless, flexing as hard as he could, emitting a high pitched  _nyeeeeeeeh_ as his reflection revealed his definitely very impressive fighting face.

“Today is the day!” he stood straight before readjusting his scarf for good measure. He took a deep breath and threw open his bedroom door. “But first – breakfast!”

He bolted down the stairs four at a time, eagerly dashing to the kitchen. Breakfast spaghetti was pretty easy to make, at least for Papyrus. He could do it blindfolded. Then again, after the last 'incident' with the blindfolds, maybe he'd leave that part of his cooking training out of this routine. He hummed eagerly to himself, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he prepared yet another culinary masterpiece, decorated with all sorts of breakfast goods atop the noodles. Eggs and bacon were a popular one for breakfast, with just a dash of glitter. It smelled... like  _something_ . Perhaps his nostril bone was a bit more sensitive than usual, but he shook the thought off as he cooked, letting his mind drift to wonders of promotions.

It was done before long, and Papyrus marveled over his delightful dishes. Sans would absolutely love this one, he was sure of it. Speaking of which...

“Sans!” Papyrus called, his voice almost rattling the windows. “It's time to wake up, sleepy bones! I made breakfast!”

“Neat,” his brother materialized from around the kitchen corner, as if he had been there all along. Or maybe it was another one of his little tricks that he used to get around. His brother certainly did seem to enjoy those pranks of his.

“How long have you been there?” Papyrus harrumphed. “You could have at least offered to help with breakfast, lazybones!”

“Nah, I'm no good with cooking,” Sans grinned widely and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. “I'd turn a breakfast into a break_slow_, bro.”

“Sans, it's too early for your terrible puns!” Papyrus moaned in distress.

“What?” his grin grew wider. “You didn't find it _humerus?”_

“Sans you are literally killing me with all these puns,” Papyrus crossed his arms, oblivious to the burning spaghetti behind him. For some reason his brother _flinched_ hard, and Papyrus definitely noticed.

“... Brother, are you alright?”

“Yeah yeah of course fine,” Sans mumbled quickly before giving himself what looked like a little shake from his head to his slippers. “Uh, bro?”

“Yes, Sans.”

His brother merely pointed to the billowing smoke cloud behind him, and Papyrus elicited an exasperated sigh. The fire was easy to put out, but his breakfast spaghetti had suffered for it. Sometimes Papyrus wondered if Sans deliberately distracted him from things. But that thought was quickly replaced by taste testing the breakfast spaghetti.

“... I mean, it's still _edible,_” Papyrus insisted. Sans only gave him a strange look before shaking his head.

“Whelp, I'm goin' to Grillby's. Papyrus, you want anything?”

“Grillby's?” Papyrus's brow bone furrowed. “This early? What about your sentry post?”

“I'll grab some grub on the way there,” he shrugged simply, tossing on his jacket lazily and not bothering to zip it up. “Ya sure you don't want anything?”  
“Eurgh,” Papyrus deadpanned. “I'd rather eat discount Temmie flakes than step foot in that grease pit.”  
“Hey, to each their bone-”  
“SANS I SWEAR TO _GOD_.”

Sans just chortled to himself and slipped out the front door, for the first time in quite a while Papyrus had seen him up before the absolute last minute. A little spark of pride rose in his chest at his brother taking some measure of initiative for once. Sure, he would probably just hang out at Grillby's and show up late again, but at least he wasn't sleeping all day. That was a sign of progress, and he'd take anything he could get. Papyrus finished putting out the fire from the breakfast spaghetti and sighed, tossing the burned remnants into the trash. Maybe next time.

He was out the door in a matter of minutes, sprinting through Snowdin, hiking his legs high up into the air. He gave a proud smile to see that people were still decorating the Giftmas tree with little bits and bobbles. It certainly seemed to help everyone's moods to get into the giving spirit, and he was proud to have done his part. He could even see the little carved wooden bone he'd hung up from himself and Sans on one of the stems, but didn't have time to admire the handiwork today. No, today, he was catching a _human._

He grabbed a quick snack from Bunni's shop on the edge of town, furiously munching it down as he tried to keep up his pace. Sure, it wasn't breakfast spaghetti, but he be darned if it wasn't sweeter. He'd have to ask her for the recipe sometime-

_Focus!_

_Stay determined!_

Papyrus found his footsteps increasing in stride as he raced even faster, checking, double checking, and triple checking his puzzles on the way. The switches were set and easy enough to jump over once activated, the prototype that Alphys had so generously donated to test was set (getting the tiles memorized was going to be a pain, thankfully he'd written down the instructions) and even the invisible electricity maze was set to perfection. There was no way any human that came through here would be getting past his traps, the perfectly prepared spaghetti notwithstanding. He was half tempted to take a bite himself as he was still hungry, but shook his head and continued onward.

For just a second as he passed, he could have  _sworn_ that he saw something – a little yellowish glimmer dancing in the snowflakes, but it was gone the next second. He must have been so excited that he was starting to see things. Papyrus shook his head again and pushed onward towards his sentry station, bouncing on the balls of his heels as he approached. 

Once again, Sans wasn't at his station, and Papyrus let out a breath of irritation through his nasal cavity. Of course it would be up to him to fetch his brother again. He would have turned on the spot to go get him, if it hadn't been for the odd figure slipping rather easily through his impenetrable gate he'd constructed over the wooden bridge leading to the old Ruins.

Papyrus just stood and stared in disbelief at the short figure. Shaggy brown hair that hung down over their face, shoulders slumped inward, dragging their feet through the snow in a slow but steady pace. His soul raced in his chest as it approached, and he couldn't help but feel an exuberant glee wash over him. It didn't look like any monster he had seen, so by process of elimination, it had to be-

“A _human!_” Papyrus blurted aloud, bolting up to them. They barely came up to his waist, more Sans's size, but once again his lazybones brother was missing out on the best day ever. They (was it a boy or girl? He couldn't quite tell) gawked up at him in surprise, thin eyes widening to reveal a pair of crimson pupils. They checked behind themselves quickly, taking a step back and nervously gripping what appeared to be a little pocket knife in one dusty hand.

“Er-hem!” Papyrus cleared his throat and stood taller, trying to look as impressive as possible. Not a difficult feat for one such as himself, surely. “Greetings, human! I am the _Great Papyrus!_ Surely you will be confounded by my myriad of maddening malodorous mischievous traps! No human has ever gotten past them, nyeh heh heh!”

The human didn't so much as blink as they just sort of...  _stood_ there, staring at him. Humans could speak, couldn't they? This one didn't seem to be doing much of that.

“Why yes, I suppose I _am_ quite intimidating,” Papyrus tried to lower his voice an octave or two. “But worry not, human opponent! For my traps are very fair, and expertly cooked! I know for certain that you will be consequently confounded and confused, as to be expected!”

They shuffled forward with an odd look on their face, expression blank as their head tilted to the side ever so slightly, like they were listening to something that he couldn't hear.

“Oh ho!” Papyrus clapped his hands together. “If you were so eager to begin, why didn't you say so?”

The human didn't respond, just drawing closer until they were standing directly before him.

“... Are you alright, little one-?”

He couldn't finish his sentence very easily, not with the weapon slicing through him like a hot knife through butter. He coughed up marrow as his leg gave out, the human staring at Papyrus with that same strange look, even a little perturbed when he reached out for them.

“Tha-that's alright,” he tried to reassure them, noting just how badly shaken they looked. “Maybe you d-don't believe in yourself,” Papyrus was losing marrow, and fast, his soul cracking in his chest from the wound, it was so hard to breathe and he could _feel_ himself dusting. “But I b-believe in you.”

All it took was another swing.

0-0-0-0-0

And then he woke up.

For once, Papyrus did not awake with a smile.

“... What in the _heck_ did I put in that spaghetti last night.”

0-0-0-0-0


	3. For Me, It Was Tuesday

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus stared up at the ceiling, his head pounding violently.

He held a single hand to his chest, his soul aching, and finally shook his head as he sat up and swung his legs out of bed and shut off the alarm clock. Surely it must have been a dream. It had felt so very real, though, so vivid it was as though he lived it. He started his morning routine of grabbing his battle body from the closet, making sure to check off the date.

Tuesday.

He let out a weak little chuckle, rubbing the back of his head. Of course it was just a dream. A very silly, somewhat upsetting dream, but just a dream nonetheless. That was fairly relieving. Papyrus shook his head and checked off the date with a worn little red marker, slipping into his boots and strapping them up, checking himself in the mirror hanging on the back of his door. Looking Tuesday pretty good, all things considered. He couldn't help but run a hand over his chest, that awful nightmare flooding right back to the surface. But there was no harm, no leaking cut over his body. He was fine. Well, there was that weird little red speck at the base of his spine, like something had poked him or stuck him with something. It didn't hurt, but it did feel...  _weird_ . He'd probably just slept on one of his figurines or something. Today was going to be better than great, it was going to be the best day of his life. He would _make_ it the best day of his life.  


Everything was  _fine_ .

Papyrus shook his head again, hands shaking a bit as he tugged on his favorite gloves. That dream must have gotten to him more than he thought, but he wouldn't let it slow him down. He huffed in a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. Today, today was important. He could feel it in his- he felt a surge of discomfort and pushed it down.

Today was the day that he caught a human!

“Sans!” Papyrus bellowed as he knocked hard on his brother's door. “Come on, lazybones! Today is our big day – the day we catch a human!”  
“Really?” Sans tiredly poked his head out of his room, wearing nothing but his boxers and a turtleneck. “Can you feel it in your-”  
“Sans I swear to god if you finish that sentence I'm not making you breakfast,” Papyrus threatened seriously.

“Oh no,” Sans grinned with a dry tone as he poked his belly. “I'll surely be nothin' but _skin and bones_.”

“EURGH,” Papyrus clapped a hand to his forehead.

“Are you not _hungering_ more puns?” Sans leaned against his door frame with his arms crossed, smugly smirking up at him. “Because I'll keep goin' from _starve_ to finish.”

“I'm disowning you,” Papyrus stated bluntly. “I'm disowning you and I'm not making you breakfast.”

“Paps, that's an awful thing to say!” he gave a false gasp and covered his grin. “I'd have to make my _own_ breakfast!”

“I think you have your priorities extremely skewed,” he sighed as Sans only chuckled to himself.

The pair made their way downstairs, Sans trundling along behind him somewhat like a lost puppy. Papyrus shook his head and threw on his favorite apron to begin making their breakfast. If he left it up to Sans they'd probably have nothing but a couple of water sausages on a plate,  _someone_ had to class it up a little. Although he found it a tad odd, staring down at his apron. Not the  _Kiss The Handsome Skeleton_ written in marker on the front, that had been there a while. But he could have sworn that it still had residue on it from making breakfast spaghetti yesterday before he-

Papyrus felt the world  _tilt_ and he hit the counter top, hard, crumpling to the floor.

“_Shit-!_” his brother sounded as though he were shouting through water. An awful jolting pain ricocheted through his skull and down the back of his neck, and his vision was so blurred that he saw three of Sans's slippers all at once and goodness was that what the floor tasted like? He really needed a new mop. Perhaps he could pick one up from that nice Bunni woman from down the street, she normally had all sorts of things stockpiled there. Hadn't he just been very upset about something? It was hard to tell.

“-rus! Paps, oh shit, oh god, Papyrus!”  
“Sans we _talked _about this language,” he groaned at last, gratefully feeling a weak but warm glow of healing magic. A glistering green bone wove through his own and his furious headache was still pounding, but it was still difficult to see quite clearly for several moments. He sat up with the help of his brother and shook his head woozily, trying to adjust.

“Oh thank god,” Sans let out a breath of relief, clinging to his hand like a shipwrecked survivor clambering to a life boat. “Do _not_ do that again, oh my _god_ are you okay bro?”

“Yes, I'm fine,” Papyrus felt a little bad about lying, but he wasn't about to complain about the pain. He wasn't a babybones, but dear lord was his head pounding. “Just... must have slipped is all, smacked my head pretty-” he gently brushed his head and hissed, instantly regretting it as his brother winced with him. “Nyeh, I mean, it's nothing! No need to worry at all, brother!”

Papyrus was on his feet in an instant, although he still felt a little dizzy he was heaps better than being on the floor.

“Paps, are you _sure_ you're okay?” Sans held up his hands as if to catch him again, but Papyrus remained firmly grasped to the counter.

“It's _fine_, brother, really,” he insisted, tying the apron on as he resumed his morning routine. “Just a little slip. Thank you for helping me up, by the way.”

“Y-yeah,” Sans shifted from foot to foot. “But are you _sure-_”

“YES, Sans!” Papyrus gently but determinedly nudged his brother into one of their creaky wooden chairs. “I must have just not woken up properly and tripped, accidents happen, brother. Now let me make breakfast, everything is _fine._”

“H-heh. Yeah,” Sans was keeping a tight eye socket on him nonetheless. “Even to the best of us, huh?”

“Nyeh, your flattery won't save you from getting to your post on time, you know that, right?” he gave him a shrewd look from the corner of his eye socket, carefully boiling the noodles like Undyne had taught him.

“Ayy, it was worth a try,” Sans seemed genuinely more relaxed now that his brother was vertical, kicking his crossed slippers up onto the polished wood. “But you're supposed ta plan for a vacation before takin' a _trip_, yeah?”

“Feet off the table!” he smacked his foot with his free hand, scowling. “And that was both in bad taste _and_ bad timing. Keep it up, Sans, I'm serious about not making you breakfast.”

“Okay, okay!” he chortled, pulling his feet down and headed to the fridge, taking a swig from a ketchup bottle before putting it back. Papyrus shuddered as he stirred the noodles and made sure to remind himself to never use any condiment bottles in his recipes if Sans was going to keep doing that-

“Oh nutsacks!” Papyrus blurted, glancing at the hanging on the wall. “Why didn't you tell me it was so late?!”

“Uh,” Sans just looked to the counter where he'd fallen and back to him. “Kinda had other things on my mind.”

“There's no time to make breakfast, we have to catch a human today!” he swiftly shut off the stove, staring down forlornly at his poor burned noodles. He felt so terrible about ruining a masterpiece; sure, there were leftovers to eat, but it just wasn't the same. Maybe tomorrow.

“Whelp, I'm going to Grillby's,” Sans shrugged and threw on his jacket. “Papyrus, you want anything?”

“Grillby's?” Papyrus blinked, feeling a sudden rush of deja vu. “Are you actually going to be at your sentry post this time?”

Sans just gave him one of those odd looks that he got sometimes, tilting his head a little.

“Uh. Yeah. Yeah, I'll grab somethin' on the way there.”

“Good,” Papyrus nodded once, his head hurting all of a sudden again. “So long as you at least get some breakfast in.”

“Hey, the way I eat, I'd turn breakfast into a break_slow_, ya know?”  
“Sans you already used that one,” he frowned.

And then his brother got that look again.  _That_ look. There were very few times when he'd seen Sans that serious, but it was gone the next moment. He closed his eye sockets for what seemed like ages before suddenly lighting up again with that lazy grin.

“Heh, yeah, my joke bank must be goin' _bone dry_.”

“Sans I will lock you in the shed, so help me god!” he pushed his cackling brother out the door.

He didn't see the little flower hiding in the snow laden bushes, patiently watching with an empty smile.

0-0-0-0-0

It was lightly snowing as Papyrus made his way toward his sentry station near the Ruins. He made sure to double check all of his traps, easily overstepping some. He was positive that they were all perfectly set, even the one he'd tried to rearrange to look like his face but had unfortunately frozen over, but all were in working order. That awful dream kept coming to the forefront of his mind as he traversed the winding path, but he pushed it down each time. It had felt almost like a premonition it had been so vivid, and it was difficult not to think about as he fiddled with one of the trap levers he'd set into a nearby tree. He stood back to admire his handiwork with a satisfied _nyeh_ and put his hands on his hips, thinking. If a human _were_ to come today, they would certainly get a surprise. There probably weren't even any monsters still living in the Ruins, so any human to come through would be assuredly stumped and befuddled. Or at the very least, he hoped so.

Papyrus marched onward past his sentry station, giving it a side glance as he passed it. It certainly could use some work. Even Sans's looked a bit better, and he hardly ever showed up to it. Papyrus shook his head and pressed on, swinging his arms and keeping momentum. Sure enough, Sans was once again absent from his post, and Papyrus let out a weary sigh. He'd probably have to go drag him all the way from Grillby's, but at least if they caught a human today-

And there they stood.

Papyrus's throat suddenly felt a bit tighter from the sight. The same figure from his dream, shambling forward through his gate and over the bridge. Shaggy brown hair hanging over their eyes, feet dragging through the snow.

One dusty hand clutching at a little pocket knife.

A cold bead of sweat began to form on the back of his neck.

“Oh ho!” he put on his best bravado, and the human paused to stare at him. “A human arrives! Greetings, human – I am the Great Papyrus!”

The human shuffled through the snow toward him, arms hanging limply at their sides. They didn't look up at him and that ringing in his head was back, but he did his best to ignore it.

“You need not fear the Great Papyrus, even if I am very intimidating!” Papyrus held a hand to his breastplate and stuck out his chest. “I do hope that you are ready for japes and capers galore-!”

He didn't even have time to finish his sentence as the knife cut right through his armor. His legs gave out as he collapsed to his knees, looking up into the human's face as they held the knife high.

“You don't have to do this,” Papyrus wheezed, marrow leaking from between his teeth as he struggled for breath. They paused, if only for a little. “Why d-do you want to fight? R-really, human – I think that you can do better.”

They didn't even blink.

The knife came down.

0-0-0-0-0

And then he woke up.

Papyrus was very much not okay.

The alarm clock beside his bed was going off, and he was quick to silence it. He pinched the bridge of his nostril bone and let out a tired sigh, closing his eye sockets and trying to take a few deep breaths. He rolled to his side and gave a tired glance to the calendar. His soul skipped a beat.

_Tuesday._

“Okay,” he muttered aloud to himself. “I am officially losing my freaking mind.”

0-0-0-0-0


	4. Stranger Things

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus didn't get out of bed immediately. That was a strange way to start off a day that was already very strange on its own. He didn't move, he didn't do anything other than stare up at the ceiling for what felt like hours before the alarm started going off.

Papyrus wasn't normally one for thorough introspection before even getting out of bed, but he'd make this time an exception. He closed his eye sockets, steepled his phalanges together and let out a quiet breath, a number of questions bouncing around his skull.

Last night – and he would use that particular term very loosely at this point – had been odd enough. He could barely remember his conversation with Flowey. He definitely remembered his soul aching, though, his body feeling pains that simply could not be. He ran a tentative hand over his chest, expecting the cut across his abdomen, but of course he was fine. It was just a dream.

Right?

The dissonance alone was enough to throw him off, and he tried to keep his breathing calm as he thought it over. The last few days had been so normal. Wake up, set traps, make spaghetti. Wash, rinse, repeat. He'd had a chat with his little Flower friend, fell ill suddenly and barely made it home. And then...

_Slice._

Papyrus's eye sockets shot open and he clutched his chest, his soul twinging painfully. There again was that  _tilting_ sensation and he had to sit upright to make it stop, the unexpected vertigo throwing him off even more. But Papyrus was no babybones, he knew that in his core, and he would catch a human even if he had to drag himself to the traps and back. But it wouldn't do any good if he wasn't even in his right mind, which he had to seriously consider if he was anymore.

A quick glance over to the calendar wasn't necessarily helpful.

_Tuesday._

So, he wiped a hand down his face, let out a weary breath, and tried his best to keep his wits about him. He had to approach this situation logically. There were a number of possibilities that he had to keep in mind, some seeming a tad more unappealing than others.

One, he physically ticked off on his finger bone with one hand as he straightened his pajamas, he was having a recurring dream about being rather violently ended in a sort of repeating dream in which he kept having. It was possible that he was still asleep, but that pain had felt very, very real to him. Even pinching his forearm hard was enough to convince him he was awake, which was no good, but still possible that it was simply a very convincing dream and he hadn't shaken himself out of it yet.

Two, which he found a bit more upsetting, he was hallucinating. His senses were deceiving him and Undyne was right about his human catching obsession and it had gotten so bad that his subconscious mind was actively rebelling against him. 

Three, someone was playing pranks on him across space and time. If anyone were to be playing pranks on him it would be his brother, but there was no  _way_ that Sans would put in such an aggressive level of effort simply to confuse him. He hardly put on effort to wear clothes, and he was lucky that he managed that.

Four, he ticked off silently as he sat with his back to the wall, brows furrowed deeper, was that somehow he really was being killed, and somehow brought back to life with some kind of unspeakable magic. That was certainly scary by itself, though unlikely not entirely impossible.

And five, what was possibly the most thoroughly unsettling idea, was that he wasn't just being pranked, or hallucinating; it was that he was somehow, against all odds, reliving the exact same day over and over again in some kind of bizarre time loop of sorts. His skull  _thunked_ against the hard wood, and he closed his eye sockets, mulling this all over at once. If any of his theories were potentially viable, the idea of some vengeful god or prankster-necromancer seemed possible, but it wouldn't make sense for him to keep waking up on Tuesday morning. The most important day, the day he was  _sure_ that he'd catch a human.

But Flowey had known about the human before they'd even arrived, hadn't he...?

Papyrus mulled that one over as he dressed. Flowey had seemed pretty certain about their descent into the Underground the very night before it had shown up. But Flowey always had a special way of knowing things before they happened, giving him all sorts of helpful advice. Warnings.

Predictions.

It could be that Flowey knew something about the arrival of the human, and if he was lucky, maybe even something about this very strange day that he'd had. Was having. Would have.

Papyrus groaned and rubbed his temples, his head aching again. This was all too confusing. A small part of him actually  _hoped_ that he was just going insane, because at least that would be easier to explain than somehow repeating the same day over and over again. Maybe it was the work of a higher power, giving him a better chance at finally joining the Royal Guard. If that was the case, then he needed to start hedging bets, because as things were he didn't really like his odds. But Papyrus knew that he could always improve, and any closer he could get to perfection, the better. 

So with renewed vigor, a head full of strange ideas and a soul positively brimming with determination, Papyrus checked the day off his calendar and set about actually getting through the most important day of his life.

0-0-0-0-0

“Sans!” he knocked on his brother's door loudly. “Wake up, you sleepybones! How are you still asleep at this time of day?”

“Y'know,” Sans blearily poked his head out through his bedroom, clearly still undressed. “Beauty sleep is actually really important for pretty skeletons.”

“Sans, the way you are, you'll need a _lot_ of beauty sleep.”

And to his surprise, his brother actually _laughed_ at that one. Not his practiced, lazy laugh, but a real, genuine little laugh. Even Sans seemed a bit caught off guard, his brother shrugging on his coat and snapping the door behind him.

“Gonna catch a human today?” Sans asked as they descended the stairs together.

“Absolutely!” Papyrus pounded his fist into his palm. “... Right after I make breakfast.”

“Sure ya don't wanna just head out?” he followed him closely, sticking his hands into his pockets.

“And let you wander off to Grillby's to schluff off your duties?” Papyrus scoffed as he tugged on his apron. “Not a chance!”

“Hachi machi, you catch on quick bro,” Sans raised a brow bone and withdrew a bottle of ketchup from the fridge, taking a swig and sticking the rest into his jacket. “Can't slip anything past your watchful eye socket, eh?”

“Today is the _day,_” Papyrus gathered the ingredients for breakfast spaghetti with practiced hands. “I _know _it, Sans.”  
“Can you feel it in your-”

“SO HELP ME _GOD,_” he started before biting his tongue, focusing entirely on the boiling water and noodles. “... On second thought,” Papyrus waved him off and carefully returned to making breakfast. “Go right ahead with that terrible pun, Sans – the more I hear the more I develop an immunity to your awful, awful, awful-”

“Uh bro-”  
“_-Awful_ jokes,” Papyrus finished with a garnish of glitter to his masterpiece. The noodles were looking _splendid_ this time.

It helped that he didn't seem to have any fewer boxes than he did yesterday, and he _counted_ this time to make sure. It wasn't helping very much, but he had to try.

“... So what you're saying,” he could _feel_ the smirk growing on his brother's face before he even turned to face it. “Is that you actually wanna hear _more_ puns?”

“Sans,” Papyrus crossed his arms tightly across his chest. “If you can manage any joke that's actually _worse_ than the usual, I will _eat_ a burger from Grillby's.”

“... Whoa, okay, hold on,” Sans seemed to be stuck in a state of both disbelief and resisting the urge to laugh aloud. Papyrus calmly set the plates, carefully checking the worn old clock hanging on the wall. “That's some pretty serious business, Paps, are ya _sure_ you wanna take me up on that bet?”

“Hit me with your best shot,” Papyrus gave him a deadpan stare just as he sat and began to dig in.

“You know how a skeleton knows whether or not it'll rain?”  
“Let me guess,” Papyrus rolled the fork through his phalanges without batting an eye socket. “He could feel it in his _bones?_”  
“No, ya goofbones, he read the weather forecast.”

“And just like that,” he dropped the fork onto the plate with a clatter. “My appetite is completely ruined. I hope you're proud of yourself.”

Sans's cackling was evidence enough. He gave one last forlorn look down to his precious breakfast spaghetti and stared down into the sauced noodles. He must have spent a little too long getting lost in his head, because his brother was speaking and he hadn't even caught what it was.

“I'm sorry, what?” Papyrus blinked and sat up ramrod straight.

“I said, are you really that torn up about it?” Sans had the good grace to look at least a little guilty. “I mean, Grillbz' burgs really aren't that bad, if you just tried 'em.”

“No, no, everything is fine,” he responded distractedly, checking the clock again before letting out a quick sigh and putting the breakfast spaghetti away in the fridge for later.

_If I even get to it this time._

“... Bro?”

“Yes, Sans?” Papyrus stood up and rolled his shoulders.

“Real talk, bro...” he placed the palms of his hands on the table. “You sure you're feelin' alright?”

“Yes, of course, why do you ask?”

“Because you didn't even _wrap_ that breakfast spaghetti.”  
“Sans, I-” he started before catching himself. What would his brother even think if he told him the truth?

That he was seeing things?

That he was overreacting?

That he was going insane?

Papyrus steeled himself and stood a little straighter, broadening his shoulders.

“I've been having some weird dreams lately,” Papyrus admitted at last.

“About what?” Sans suddenly got _that_ look again, and he found himself immediately regretting his decision to speak. He gave his brother credit, Sans hid it very well. But he _knew_ that look, and he did not care for it in the slightest. 

“About catching a human,” he cleared his throat, feeling like absolute dirt for keeping secrets from his own brother. “It's gotten a little stress inducing is all.”

“Heh. I've heard of stranger things. This must really be on your mind lately, huh?”

“You have no idea,” Papyrus ran a hand down his face before stamping the floor. “But I won't give up! I'm _far_ too determined to give up now!”

“Paps?” Sans asked with a bit of a squint. “Where ya goin-?” he started as Papyrus stomped past him.

“To where I'm needed!” he threw on his scarf. “To go catch a human!”

“... Alright,” Sans didn't look up at him as he walked past. “But uh, I might actually grab some of your leftovers, if... if ya don't mind. Y'know. Instead of. Uh. Grillby's.”

Sans's plate was indeed empty.

Papyrus was also fairly certain he hadn't seen his brother take a single bite, but he didn't bring it up. He paused before leaving, hand on the door frame. He saw the tired, lazy grin of his brother, the weariness clinging to every bone, the expectant, awaiting stare.

“... I love you, brother.”

“I-” Sans blinked before rubbing the back of his head, his soft smile widening just a little. “Heh. Love you too, bro.”

“I'll be home soon,” Papyrus said before he slipped out the door, pushing into the wind toward the Ruins. He pulled his scarf a little closer to himself, the one Sans had gotten him even though they both knew he didn't need it, it just completed the look. He had a lot of questions, not nearly enough answers, and he had a good idea where to start before he inevitably wound up right back where he started. But one way or another, no matter how long it took, he _would_ get answers.

“_... I promise._”

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus was getting a little more comfortable buying from Bunni. Sure, the cinnamon treats weren't the healthiest breakfast, but he really had to stop skipping breakfast in the first place.

Although technically, he hadn't actually skipped as many breakfasts as he thought, because technically he hadn't _had_ breakfast for the last few todays, and _oh good there's the headache again._

Papyrus was ready for them this time.

“Hello, human!” Papyrus waved at the short creature. They approached slowly over the bridge, continuously checking behind them like they were afraid of their own shadow. His soul tugged painfully in his chest. Maybe that was why they kept attacking him instead of trying out any of his neat traps and puzzles, they were just scared and confused? But he supposed that was the point, after all. “Welcome, welcome – come on through the gate!”

Now that he could get a better look at them (which was much easier to do when he wasn't being stabbed, he silently noted) their lanky hair parted slightly to reveal their thin eyes, face drawn into an unreadable expression. He wasn't entirely certain how he was going to work with all of this, but he had a couple ideas. There again was that familiar knife dangling from their hand, coated with dusty powder. It made a shudder go up from the base of his spine, but he repressed it hard and smiled wider.

“Please, after you!” he held one arm across his waist and slightly bowed them through, putting on his best niceties. “No need to be scared at all, new friend! It's just a giant cavern filled with skeletons and dangerous monsters, no need to be frightened at all!”

Alright, so maybe he was still a _little_ peeved that this human had murdered him.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, new friend!” Papyrus put his hands on his hips. “I am the _Great Papyrus_!”

The human seemed to have no response to this except to tighten their grip on the knife handle a little more. Hopefully this first plan worked.

“But you can just call me Papyrus, if you would like,” he added in a significantly lower tone, clearing his throat. “I thought, since all the puzzles seemed like quite a trek to get to,” he steepled his fingers together hopefully. “That I would just bring some right to you! See?” he held up the little booklet of children's crossword puzzle he'd picked up from Bunni's shop. “We can start easy an move onto the cool puzzles if you'd like!”

The human drew up their arm, and Papyrus let out a quiet sigh through his teeth.

“You know...” he said quietly as he dropped the booklet and pencil into the snow. He stared them down the entire time, the human poised to strike, knife glistening with the silvery dust of the fallen. “Even if you don't believe in yourself, I really do. You know-”

The knife came down.

“... It really hurts when you do that,” he whispered just loudly enough for them to hear. And that uncertain expression turned to something he was sure he'd never seen on them before. Something he almost thought might never happen. Something stranger.

_Shock._

0-0-0-0-0

And then he woke up.

Papyrus rolled over to his side and let out a breath, closing his eye sockets, letting out an exasperated snort through his nostril bone.

_Tuesday._

“... Knew I should have started with Junior Jumble.”

0-0-0-0-0


	5. And The Knife Came Down

0-0-0-0-0

“Tuesday,” Papyrus ran a hand down his face. “Tuesday, Tuesday, always Tuesday. Okay. Right. I can adjust.”

Papyrus did not do that immediately. In fact, he was finding the very act of getting out of bed quite difficult. His chest hurt, his soul ached, and his head was _throbbing_ terribly, and that unpleasant sensation of horizontal vertigo hitting him a few more times. He finally rolled over and checked the clock. It was nearly an hour and a half before it was time to get up. He had almost enough time to prepare for the day and make breakfast, but for some reason he really wasn't all that enthused about the idea.

“... Okay,” he forced his eye sockets to remain open, despite the longing urge to go back to sleep and pretend that this wasn't entirely crazy. “Okay. Nyeh. Come on, Papyrus. You can do this.”

He didn't find his own voice that convincing this time, but sat up anyway and swung his legs off the edge of his bed, resting his elbows on his knees as he thought. Stars and stones, he was _tired_. It felt like he hadn't slept in days, but he had to keep going. He had to push forward. No matter what, he had to press onward.

He _had_ to catch a human.

Maybe that was why he seemed to keep repeating this day, he thought as he silently dressed, not even bothering with the lamp this time and instead dressing carefully in the dim light of his computer in the corner. He carefully tugged on his crimson gloves and gave himself a little shake. He _would_ get through today. Even if the idea of facing the human again seemed a little... _daunting_, he would be prepared this time. More prepared, anyway.

He tried to clear his mind as he prepared, but it was difficult. The human, the little one in the striped jumper, they had looked _surprised_ when he spoke to them last. Like they really hadn't expected him to feel pain or something? But that was silly, of course he did, what kind of person didn't?

Well, there was his little plant friend, but Flowey didn't seem to like talking about that much. Perhaps it was high time that he had a few words with his apparently clairvoyant fan. Quickly checking the clock again revealed that he had enough time, and he was sure to check off Tuesday on the calendar, even double checking the extra bones he had stored in case of an emergency like special attacks or a date.

Papyrus stood before his brother's door, thoughts meandering somewhat wearily through his mind. He rose his fist to the door but slowly drew it back down, letting it hang limply by his side, letting out a long, gradual, silent sigh. No, it wouldn't be right. He couldn't drag his brother into this mess. Sans was already barely hanging on with his poor health amongst a myriad of other things, there was no way that he could do that to his own family, no matter how much it made his soul twinge. So he swiveled on the spot and quietly made his way downstairs, hands clenched tightly at his side. Absolutely not, he _wouldn't_ bring Sans into his own problems; he was a big bones, he could handle this.

Despite the fact that he had no idea _how_, but he would.

_You rest up, brother._

He took the time to write up a little note for his brother, sticking it on the refrigerator with a tossed away letter magnet. He hoped that his brother at least had some breakfast if he woke up on time. Papyrus wasn't certain if he could make sure this time.

A sudden _dread_ washed over him as he stood before the front door, hand gripping the knob tightly. What exactly would happen to Sans if he didn't come back this time? What if he was using up precious chances and the day wouldn't start over like before? What if Sans was left all alone? Who was supposed to take care of him, then?

Papyrus swallowed hard and pushed himself out the door before he had a chance to change his mind, wrapping his scarf tightly around his neck as the wind howled. Same as yesterday, and the day before, and every today that he'd had so far, Papyrus would have to try just a bit harder. It seemed that fewer people were awake at this time of day, an older bear monster hanging around outside the library with a newspaper in one hand and a paper coffee cup in the other. Papyrus felt a twinge of jealousy. Getting to relax with a nice piping cup of brew sounded lovely right about now, but he had to stick to the plan. It wasn't like he could just take a vacation or something.

“Good morning!” Papyrus waved to him, earning a distracted grunt in response. It appeared that was the best he was going to get, so he forged onward through Snowdin. Some just weren't morning people, he supposed. He contemplated giving him some helpful morning tips but seeing the disgruntled glare he was giving he shrugged off the idea. Bunni's shop wasn't too far away, right next door to the inn. He gave a knock to make sure that it was actually open at this time of the morning, and he was a little pleased to find out that it was, but found his discomfort returning. He never was good at talking to her, and the past few Tuesdays hadn't turned out great.

“Good morning!” he repeated to the surprised monster, her ears picking up.

“Oh!” she seemed just a bit more perky, smiling at him. “Come on in outta the cold, darlin'. What can I get for ya today?”

“Do you have any more Junior Jumble puzzles in?” he shifted from foot to foot, trying to resist the urge to stare down at his bright red boots. She just smiled and nodded once, pulling some out from behind the counter.

“Got a couple left, and a pretty good discount if'n you want 'em all,” Bunni stacked them together on the counter top.

“Sure, why not,” Papyrus said more to himself than anything, but she stacked them into a small brown paper bag nonetheless. “And a couple more of your cinnamon treats for today please, if you don't mind.”

“More?” Bunni cocked an eyebrow but wrapped them up and put them into the bag nonetheless. “Pretty sure you don't really buy any of those from me, darlin'.”

“Oh goodness how silly of me,” he shook his head. “I'm getting a little too comfortable, I hope you forgive me.”

“Aw, it's no big deal!” she counted out his change and put the rest in the till, rolling her shoulders. “You skeleton brothers doin' alright?”

“Yes of course everything is fine,” Papyrus repeated in the same tone as before, feeling himself die just a little bit on the inside. He actually started to tell her about the strangeness he'd been experiencing, just _someone_ to talk to about all this, and had to physically stop his own mumbling. “What I mean is, thank you, Miss Bunni. I appreciate it.”

“No problem at all, doll!” Bunni waved him off. “You come back soon now, alright?”

“I think I will,” Papyrus smiled wanly at her and took off.

_If only you knew._

Papyrus passed a couple of teens chattering away together just on the outside of Snowdin, carefully working his way through his numerous traps and challenges for potential human opponents. Or just one, really, he'd be happy with just  _one_ , if they bothered to try. Maybe if he was convincing enough this time he wouldn't wind up with a gash across his-

He clutched his chest and hissed in pain, his footfalls slowing as he felt the world  _tilt_ . He could have sworn that he was quite a few puzzles ahead, but there again was the electric maze puzzle he was sure he'd trekked past. So, it seemed that it wasn't just waking up on Tuesday that was getting weird, time itself seemed to be getting wonky, and he did  _not_ care for the idea. He picked up his pace and made for his sentry station, giving it a forlorn look. Even his brother's lazily crafted post looked better than his, and wasn't even made out of cardboard. Papyrus dug around behind his station for a moment before finally finding what he was looking for. Every now and then human writing utensils would fall down into Waterfall, and the ones that survived were usually things like coloring pencils or crayons, which he collected quickly. The waterlogged 'magic' markers he'd found didn't seem very magical at all, and hardly ever worked, so these would do just fine.

Papyrus stood with the bag under his arm with the bridge in sight, planted his feet firmly into the snow, and waited.

Today would be different.

He would  _make_ it different.

0-0-0-0-0

It took almost an hour for the human to arrive, and Papyrus had worn a path into the snow from his pacing, flattening everything in front of and around the sentry station. He grinned eagerly at the approaching human crossing the wooden gate, slipping deftly right through the bars like it wasn't even a problem. They carried themselves confidently toward him, knife clutched in one hand. Papyrus held up the paper bag in one arm and they silently paused.

“Hello again, human!” Papyrus said with a bit of forced cheer, noting how they seemed a little surprised. They didn't approach any closer than a few feet away, but he was fine with keeping some distance at this point. “I noticed you didn't like the crossword puzzles very much, so I brought Junior Jumble instead!”

They tilted their head to the side, hair falling over their eyes.

“So which do you prefer?” he tried to ask conversationally. “Crossword or Jumble?”

The human stayed silent.

Papyrus waited and waited, eventually clearing his throat uncomfortably.

“See...” he began. “This is usually the part when you say one or the other, and I say something great in response.”  
“You remember.”

It was the first time he had heard them speak at all, voice soft and lilting and almost carried away by the wind.

“So do you, it would seem...” Papyrus set down the paper bag on the sentry station, leaning against the wood. “So that answers one question. Now I only have about a billion more.”

They tightened their grip on the knife.

“Do you really have to keep doing this?”

They actually paused at that. And then drew closer.

“You really don't,” he dug in the bag for a moment, never dropping his gaze. “I truly believe you can be good, human. Everyone can be a good person, if they just try. Can't we just talk for a minute?”  
They gave him a look that could only be described as 'what' in facial form.

“Trying some positive reinforcement?” he shrugged, pulling out the puzzle books in one hand. “If you don't like Jumble either, that's fine too. There are lots of other cool puzzles up ahead that you could try out, if you'd like!”

The human was shaking visibly as they stood before him, knuckles tightened white over the knife handle. They stood before him, trembling in the cold wind. Papyrus stared them down once again, and they just... _waited._

Like they were expecting something else from him.

“... Would you like a Cinnamon Bunny?” he pulled out a treat from the bag, leaving the puzzles forgotten. “You look hungry, little one. Have you had breakfast yet? These are very good.”

He made a show of having one himself, eating the entire thing in one bite and rubbing his chest with his free hand. “Mm-hmm. _Tasty_. Would you like one, human?” he drew another one out, unwrapping it for them. He held it out to them waiting, patiently, worriedly, but eventually, _finally_, they accepted the treat from his open palm and just... held it, staring up at him.

“Well?” he gestured for them to continue. “Made fresh, they're pretty good. I mean, it's no breakfast spaghetti, but few things are. Go on, it's alright!” he had to stop himself from swaying on his feet. The human took a bite and their face scrunched up, and he found himself getting a bit excited. Maybe this time was the one. Maybe this was the day things were different. They finished in a couple of bites, chewing rapidly like they were trying to shovel it down as efficiently and quickly as possible.

“... Are you really that hungry?” Papyrus lowered himself a little. “If you are, I happen to be a master chef. I could make you all the spaghetti you could ask for, if you'd like! Nyeh heh heh!”

They gave him that odd, tilting look again. That undecipherable expression. It made him uneasy. They raised a single dusty hand, knife held tight and brought it down.

0-0-0-0-0

And Papyrus dodged.

They simply stood in place, head swiveling toward him, eyebrows raised.

“What?” he scoffed, throwing back his scarf. “Did you really think I was going to just stand there and take it?”

For some reason, that of all things made them show a new expression. If anything, they looked downright _disturbed_. They were shaking fully now, knife held out in front of them like they were trying to ward him off, and Papyrus held up his gloved hands.

“Take-take it easy, now...” Papyrus tried to lower his tone a bit, like he was speaking to a frightened animal. “Come on, little one. We don't have to fight. Alright? I _know_ there's a good person inside you, under all this... can't we just be friends?”

If the human was fine before, they weren't now. They were openly crying, teeth clenched hard, staring at him with bright red eyes through the tide, drawing near him with wary little steps.

“I see you are approaching!” he put on his best winning smile. “Perhaps with a hug of friendship this time? I - … please?”

The human shook furiously, though whether from fright or cold or something else he couldn't tell.

“You don't have to do this...” Papyrus held out his hand to them calmly, awaiting what would inevitably come next. The knife came up.

“Listen,” he refused to back down, seeing the fright on their features. “Please, if you are listening. Let's just forget about all this, okay? Just... lay down your weapon, and, well... my job will be a lot easier.”

They dropped to their knees, sobbing uncontrollably. The dusty knife lay cast to the ground next to them, where they clung to their own body like they were going to blow away in the wind. Papyrus slowly, carefully knelt down in front of them, finally reaching out and embracing them. This only made them cry harder.

“I don't understand,” they managed to hiccup out, unable to even meet his gaze. “I d-don't... I don't _understand._”

“It's alright,” he let out a weary breath, holding them as gently as he could. “I don't understand, either.”

Nobody saw the little flower in the bushes vanish in an instant.

0-0-0-0-0

Sans had been having such a good morning, all things considered.

He found the note Papyrus had left under the fridge magnet, had himself a nice little cup of coffee and a few swigs of spiced ketchup. It was going to be a bad time all around, so he might as well have accepted that Papyrus let him sleep in this time. He fidgeted with the little notebook in one hand as he sat at the kitchen table, taking a sip of his ketchup as he glanced over his scribbled notes. Maybe if he was lucky this time wouldn't be all terrible, but he didn't have high hopes. Alphys would be calling him soon about the human, and he had the perfect dialogue memorized. It was seared into him at this point.

Sans let out a sigh and took a long, heavy drought before putting both the notebook and ketchup bottle into his jacket, turning to stare at the table with his head in his hands. He knew he should have gone after his brother after finding out he'd left early, but what was the point? It was all going to wind up the same anyway. There was no purpose, and it weighed on his shoulders like an anchor. He was going to miss Grillby when everyone evacuated. He was going to miss Papyrus when he inevitably came back to an empty house.

He was going to miss any sense of solace that his life might have once had. He was definitely going to miss not having a hangover with how much he'd had, but that was a problem for future Sans.

He got a pleasant surprise when the front door opened, Papyrus haloed in the light. And a not so pleasant surprise when he saw what he was carrying.

“Sans,” Papyrus stated calmly. “We have a guest.”

0-0-0-0-0


	6. Language

0-0-0-0-0

“You have _got_ to be _fucking kidding me._”

“Language, Sans!” Papyrus blurted, kicking the door shut behind him with the flat of his foot. “And in front of a child no less! Shame on you, brother.”

“Paps put that _thing_ down-” Sans stumbled off his chair, slippers getting caught in the linoleum. He froze in place from the _look_ Papyrus gave him, the small human cradled in his arms not even blinking their crimson eyes at him.

“Have some patience, brother!” he cleared his throat, standing up a little taller. “I know you're excited that I finally captured a human, but things didn't go exactly as planned today. This is human Frisk!”

The human gave a little wave with their fingertips, drawing their arms back up close to their chest. Sans just stared and stared, finally running a hand down his face, giving one of those forced grins up at his brother.

“... Guess this means I don't gotta go to work today, huh?” he put his hands in his pockets, grin spreading as Papyrus only sighed and shook his head.

“Human Frisk, this is my lazybones brother,” he carefully set them on their feet, and they swayed back and forth for a moment, seemingly unwilling to either leave Papyrus' side or move any closer to the short and stocky skeleton. “And this here,” he motioned to a rock coated in glitter and candies set next to the wall “Is our pet rock Sprinkles. He always forgets to feed it,” he dug in a small bag next to it and threw a few more jimmies over it.

“So this is really happenin', huh?” Sans stood in place. That smile never left his face, but Papyrus knew that it just felt a little... _off._

“You know,” Papyrus clapped his gloved hands together. “For finally catching a human, you don't really seem all that excited, brother.”

“I'm cheering on the inside,” he stated in a bland, emotionless voice. “So,” he turned to the human, who flinched. “You're _Frisk_, huh? Sure. I'm the queen of Siam,” he grinned a bit wider. “You may bow at your leisure. Or mine,” he winked.

“Sans, this is no time for jokes!” he stamped his boot against the floor. “This is a serious situation!”

“Ain't that right...” Sans's even stare turned once more to the human, like he was checking for something. “So, you must have fought my bro, huh? Took an awful lot of courage to do what you did, ya know?”

“Well, who _wouldn't_ be intimidated by the Great Papyrus? Nyeh heh heh,” he stood a little taller. “We have some things we need to discuss! But first, I promised to make the human some spaghetti – I assure you, my recipe is unforgettable!”

He made his way past his brother and silently noted the scent of booze but bit his tongue, forgoing the urge to tell off his brother for drinking this early in the day. Papyrus was sure that he had his reasons. Heck, Papyrus was half tempted himself with how crazy his life had been lately, but he pushed down the sensation. Frisk followed him closely as he set about making spaghetti, gathering the pots and pans and humming a little tune as he worked.

And Sans was still just standing in place. _Watching._

There was clearly something that was bothering his brother. It was probably the first time he'd ever even seen a human, no wonder he seemed so put off. Papyrus had been pretty shocked to find one, too.

“The noodles have to soften in the water first as it boils,” he explained as he turned the heat up on the stove. Frisk just stared up at him, arms clenched tightly to their chest. He hoped they weren't cold. “Learned that one the hard way, spaghetti came out hard as bricks. Coincidentally, bricks do not add the correct texture to spaghetti,” he added. Frisk only nodded once, making sure to keep close to him but staying to the side, like they were afraid they'd be trampled for being in the way. Papyrus was very careful after he realized that, making his movements clear and deliberate to keep from frightening them again.

“Would you kindly pass me that wooden spoon?” he pointed to the counter top to his right. The human's gaze stuck clearly on the rack of kitchen knives for far longer than comfort would allow, their hand shaking as they at last grasped the utensil and passed it to him.

“... Well, this is a knife,” Papyrus cleared his throat awkwardly before reaching over them and picking up the spoon. “Those tend to not work very well at stirring pasta, makes the noodles too tiny. See? The vegetables go in next, they need just the right amount of time to cook or else they turn out too soggy. Nyeh heh, like so!”

Sans was leaning against the kitchen doorway, eye sockets half open like he was almost interested in the impromptu cooking lesson that he was giving, but the human's eyes were locked onto him with a fiercely determined expression as if they were committing it all to memory.

“Next, the sauce!” he actually felt pretty excited to have an audience so captive for his normally unappreciated masterpieces. “I like to mash my own tomatoes for the pasta sauce, but I have some prepared in the refrigerator; would you like to grab that for me please?”

Papyrus blinked and held what they handed him, glancing uncomfortably back and forth.

“... Okay, so, that is another _knife_,” he made sure to put it on the kitchen sink out of reach. “Nyeh, but that's okay! Everybody makes mistakes! It's the red jar with the copper top – nyeh heh, yes, you've got it now!” Papyrus eagerly added the jar of homemade sauce into the now boiling ingredients, going over the recipe in his head just like Undyne had taught him. He made sure to turn the stove down just as the flames were rising up, stirring passionately as he could. Granted, quite a bit of the pasta wound up flying due to his exuberant motions, but that just meant it would taste better.

“And... voila!” Papyrus fanned the flames down and turned off the stove. “Perfection at it's finest, I assure you! And now, we gather the plates and _that is once again a KNIFE_, Frisk. Sans,” and Sans bolted awake, jittering slightly at the sound of his name being called. “It's time for lunch, not naptime lazybones!”

“Hey, at least I'm not late this time,” he shrugged as he plopped into the seat opposite him. Frisk watched as Papyrus set the plates, scooping some spaghetti out for everyone.

“Thank the stars for small miracles,” Papyrus rolled his eye lights and Sans chortled, twirling a fork through his phalanges. “And an extra portion for you little one!”

Frisk just stared down at the spaghetti like they were afraid it was going to vanish, uncertainly turning their gaze back up at him.

“Well?” Papyrus motioned as he sat down between the two. “Go on, little one! Oy vey iz mir, eat, eat all you like! It's really not my best work,” he really did try his hardest not to give Frisk any of the burned portions. “But it's still an artisan's work!”

“And when I cook, it's an art of Sans.”

“Sans not at the dinner table!” Papyrus clapped a hand to his forehead, his brother only laughing. “For crying out loud, your jokes are the worst!”

“Only if I put them in hot dogs,” he winked. “Then they're the _wurst._”

It took a full beat for it to click and Papyrus groaned.

“Why must you cause me such agony, brother,” Papyrus rubbed his temples.

“Do you not like bein' hit in the funny bone?”

“Sans I _swear to god_.”

“I thought it was _humerus_.”  
“Sans.”

“Can you not _stomach_ these?”

“SANS.”

Frisk tittered in that strange, lilting tone, and Papyrus realized it might have been the first time he'd ever heard them laugh. They really didn't speak much at all from what he'd known of them so far. But there really had to be a good person in them somewhere, and he knew he'd find it with a bit of good food and good friends. All he had to do was try a bit harder, and here he was, with an actual human in his very own house! It took him a moment to remember that he was staring at them and they must have thought he was expectant, as they took a small, experimental bite of his spaghetti. He found himself leaning forward just a bit, eagerly awaiting their response. Their face scrunched up reflexively and he felt a rush of relief as they took another small bite. It would seem that his plan was working spectacularly.

“It's pretty good, right?” Papyrus took a bite of his own, trying to ignore the crunch of overcooked noodles. In fact, it _really_ wasn't his best work, which was hard to ignore. He'd have to have some more practice with Undyne later. “What do you think of this one, Sans?”

“Not all bad,” he wasn't certain whether he was talking about the spaghetti or the human from the look he was giving. Papyrus also noticed that his brother's plate was, yet again, mysteriously empty even though he hadn't seen him take a single taste. They ate in relative silence after that. Papyrus dared a few questions as to how the human had wound up all the way here and how they were doing, but they didn't answer. He was a little surprised at how swiftly they wolfed it down, but given the Cinnamon Bunny from earlier he wasn't too thrown off. The poor thing must have been starving.

_They'd have to be to eat your cooking._

He was quick to shake off that nasty little thought. After everyone was done (Sans fell asleep at the kitchen table) Papyrus quietly collected the plates and put away the leftovers, carefully wrapping it away as he gathered everything from the table. He started to wake his brother to tell him off for napping yet again, but thought against it. He washed the dishes as rapidly as he could, hanging up the pots and pans to dry. Frisk never said a word as they watched him intently, crimson eyes following his every movement. The old microwave failed a couple of times as he tried to make some popcorn for dessert, letting his brother rest seemed for the best as he motioned for the human to follow into the living room.

“After a good meal I love some popcorn and a movie,” he explained as he put on one of Mettaton's older shows. “... Don't judge me, this is just a bad episode.”

Frisk just shook their head and stayed close in tow, clambering up onto the couch next to him as he sat down. They blinked once and then dug straight into the crack of the couch cushions, pulling out some coins that must have fallen in. Frisk gave him a single glance before putting it right into their pocket, but he didn't say anything. He didn't want to be a bad host, after all. He put the bowl of popcorn between himself and the human, leaning back tiredly into the couch. It was silent in the room except for the television for a long while, neither of them daring to break the still quiet that had fallen over them.

“... So,” he said at long last, resisting the urge to rub his tired eye sockets. “I have some questions.”

Frisk stiffened at this, but didn't speak. No surprises there.

“How many times have we done this?”

Frisk turned slightly to look up at him, movie entirely forgotten.

“Because things have been pretty strange lately,” Papyrus continued in a low tone. “At first I thought that I was the only one remembering the same day over and over. But you seem to recall it too, am I right?”

The human didn't speak. They didn't even move for a while, but finally gave a slow, single nod.

“I thought so. Do you know anything about why?”

Frisk shook their head once.

“Okay,” he sighed. “So maybe we're in the same boat here. Nyeh, I've-I've never had to ask anyone this before, but...” Papyrus ran a hand over his head, letting out an uneasy breath. “Do know how long we've been having this same day?”

Frisk only shrugged.

“Right,” he closed his eye sockets for a moment. “I guess it's a little too much to ask of you, if I'm being fair. Does anyone else remember these... _this_ day that keeps happening?”

Frisk paused again before holding up a single finger, then two. Then they pulled their hands close to themself again, looking away.

“Just us two, huh?” he frowned, scratching the back of his head. “It certainly does make this whole 'repeating day' situation even odder. Is that why you seem to keep killing me?”

They visibly  _flinched_ and rubbed their forearms, shrinking up on the couch a little.

“... I really do forgive you,” he added in a gentler tone, which only served to make them turn inwards a little more. “I mean, you must be just as confused about all of this as I am. Monsters really aren't your enemy, you know? I mean, I know we're supposed to be,” Papyrus was rambling at this point but he didn't care, he was just happy to have someone to talk to about this. “But we really don't have to be. I'm not certain why you thought that you had to kill, but...”

A number of unpleasant questions ran rampant through his mind and he rubbed his temples, the headache returning. He wasn't getting across as well as he'd have liked. Maybe he just wasn't speaking the right language, the kind that they would understand.

“I believe in you,” he said at last. Frisk only gave him that vacant, almost sad stare before turning away, cheeks flushed. “So please, human. Frisk. If you can... show some MERCY. That's all I ask.”

From the way that they curled up and refused to look at him, it was clear that they didn't want to talk anymore, regardless of whether or not they'd done much of it at all. So Papyrus let them be for a while, the popcorn sitting forgotten between them, the dulcet tones of Mettaton peppering them as he sang a single monster duet about his magnificence. The older reruns really weren't as good as his later films, he had to admit. He even found himself starting to lull off into a comfortable sort of silence, his eye sockets drooping. Goodness, it had been so  _long_ since he'd had a good sleep, but he still had so many questions.

But he had done it after all, hadn't he? He'd captured a human – a real, live human. Undyne was going to be so  _proud _ of him, she'd probably let him into the Royal Guard right away if he was lucky. And she had been wrong! He didn't even have to take a single swing at them to win their battle (technically). Perhaps he was just so charming that he had breezed through that part. Or at least, he hoped so. The human had already seemed relatively distressed upon their encounter. Maybe all they needed was a friend who could understand and help them through. And after Frisk was delivered to the capital, they could speak to King Asgore, who would set all monsters free with soul power! Or at least, that was how Sans described it. He didn't know all the details of how the barrier even worked in the first place. But if Frisk was strong enough to get into the barrier in the first place, then surely they were strong enough to get out, or even break it? He certainly hoped so. There was so much riding on him that he could  _feel_ the responsibility weighing on his back. Papyrus  _needed_ to be the hero that everyone needed. And after today, he finally would be. Papyrus, head of the Royal Guard, expert human catcher, savior of the Underground.

It made his soul jump.

Or maybe that was the rushing pain in his chest.

0-0-0-0-0

And then he woke up.

The alarm was blaring. His head was pounding. And the calendar on the wall openly mocked him with that same date of February second.

Tuesday.

“Oh, god. Fucking. _Dammit._”

0-0-0-0-0


	7. Advantage

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus was, for lack of a better term, very much not okay.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he covered his eye sockets with the crook of his arm. “You've – you've gotta – nyeh, nyeh heh heh-”

Was this what going crazy was like? Papyrus certainly felt like he was on the way there, if that train hadn't already left the station. What had he done wrong? He must have messed _something_ up, otherwise he wouldn't be having the same day again, right? But that was going off of his previous assumption that it was on some sort of cosmic chance scale where he _had_ to catch a human, but in hindsight that was pretty self-centered. The world didn't revolve around him, after all. Papyrus groaned into his hands, the ringing of the alarm doing absolutely nothing good for his headache. His fist slammed into it and it clattered to the floor, cracked but mercifully silent. Papyrus let out another sigh and kicked it to the side as he swung his legs off the edge of the bed, staring through the dim light at the calendar.

“... What did I do _wrong,_” he muttered more to himself than anything, half question and half unheard prayer. He held his head in his hands, glowering down at the floor like it was to blame. “I did it. I captured a human. What did I do _wrong?_”

Of course, there was no answer, and he sighed heavily and leaned back to let his head rest against the wooden wall. He had to think things over. It had seemed like it was all going so well, too. He'd stopped a killer cold in their tracks with his irresistible charm, made a (sort of) new friend, and caught an actual human all in one swoop. And then it had all gone right out the window without even sticking the landing, just after-

He held a hand to his chest, his breathing growing labored for a moment.

Had they... had they _killed_ him when he wasn't looking?

Papyrus frowned, which was difficult to do. He just wasn't a frown-y type of monster, but this situation deserved it. It was like they had just waited for the perfect opportunity to put an end to him or something, but that idea was swiftly pushed away. Nobody could possibly be that heartless. No, it had to be something else. But that stinging sensation wouldn't go away for several minutes, like his soul itself was crying out. He tried to keep his breathing calm and his eye sockets closed, focusing entirely on the task at hand.

Something had gone awry, at some point, and he had wound up reliving Tuesday again. So it must have been something _he'd_ done incorrectly, right? He remembered falling asleep in front of the television, next to the human, and the next thing he knew he was back in his room on the same day, so something _must_ have happened unless he somehow slept through the entire night. And on that note, exactly how long would it take for him to wake up in the same spot again? That trifling question wouldn't leave him alone. Was it sometime around early morning, the same time that the alarm went off? That was the optimal answer, as it provided a full twenty-four hours of time before the day repeated. On the other hand, time could very well be rubber banding back whenever he died, which seemed to be a troublingly recurring theme lately. But somewhere between the two, perhaps the day would restart at random, which was somehow _worse_ than the other two possibilities.

Papyrus groaned and forcibly pushed himself out of bed, nudging the remnants of his broken alarm clock out of the way so that he could dress. Great, now he'd have to go to Waterfall just to find a new one.

_Or just wait until tomorrow._

That thought actually wasn't so bad. It meant that no matter how clumsy he was it wouldn't have a lasting effect, right? But that was no reason for him to go slipping up – Papyrus was the picture of personal perfection, or at least he tried to be. Lately, not so much.

Papyrus dressed in silence, half worried that his little accident had woken his brother, but Sans tended to be a pretty heavy sleeper. That was a plus. But he tried to be quieter anyway. It took forever to get his battle body out of the closet and actually onto him, he felt so  _exhausted_ . But then again he'd also been going through the same day back to back without any real rest, and he could feel it weighing on both his body and mind. His back hurt, his chest hurt, his head hurt, but he would forge through regardless.

He stood before the hanging mirror on the back of his door, glancing at himself. His shoulders were stooped, his eye lights dim, his smile plastic and forced. He felt a twinge of revulsion all of a sudden and gave himself a hard shake, trying to recall the valiant hero that everyone needed him to be. He didn't look great, and he certainly didn't  _feel_ great, but he would make greatness out of himself no matter what it took. He was determined.

So, Papyrus gathered what he needed, left a hastily scribbled note for Sans, and set off toward the edge of the woods where he was needed.

0-0-0-0-0

He hadn't made breakfast that morning, being in a rush to get to the human as quickly as possible. It was quiet in Snowdin this time of morning, but it had been the last few... days? Reruns? Is that what he would call it? He'd workshop it on the way. The last few todays had been similar, and the same bear monster was hanging around outside the library looking grumpy before his morning coffee.

“Good morning!” Papyrus tried to share some of his early morning enthusiasm with the monster, he didn't think he had ever gotten his name. He grunted in response and shook some snow off his shoulders, readjusting his paper in one hand and coffee in the other. “I don't think we've ever actually been introduced, it's nice to meet you! I am the Great Papyrus!” he threw his cape back gallantly into the breeze, waiting for a response. The monster just stared at him over his paper with a disgruntled expression, taking a long, slow, heavy drought from his disposable cup.

“Barry.”

“Sorry?”  
“No, Barry,” he repeated blandly, giving his paper a little shake before turning his gaze back to it. “You one of them skeleton brothers that moved in, right?”

“Yes, the more excellent half of the dynamic duo!” he puffed out his chest proudly. Barry didn't seem to enthused. Maybe he just needed some more time to let the morning sleep out of his eyes. “Say, you haven't seen a human come through here, have you?”

“Like I said to the rest of the Guard,” he didn't even look up from his crossword puzzle. “I think I'd _know_ a human if I saw one, I'd be the first to report in to one of ya. That's just politics,” he took another sip of his coffee.

“Well, that was all,” Papyrus said awkwardly, not really bothered by the bear monster's blatant disregard. “Have a nice day, Barry!”

“Uh huh,” Barry still didn't look up. “Hey, do you know a nine letter word for woodchuck?”

“You mean aside from woodchuck?” Papyrus blinked. “No, I'm afraid I don't-”

Barry grumbled something impolite and Papyrus was quick to move along his way, just a bit flustered. Some people _really_ needed time to wake up in the morning. Unlike him, he was always ready to go. Mostly. Before the reruns of today he'd been having, he really wouldn't have been able to see how Sans could possibly sleep all the time like a lazybones, but he was starting to relate to his poor narcoleptic brother. He was tired himself. Maybe a nice cup of coffee was just the thing he needed, but he never liked the taste or how it made his bones jittery. They clacked together in a weird way that he didn't like.

So Papyrus hoisted himself a bit higher, lengthened his footsteps and made his way toward the end of Snowdin. Bunni's shop was open, he remembered that it had been last time. Or, would be open. Was open. Papyrus did not like thinking about time like this. It gave him a headache. He wished he'd paid a bit more attention when Sans had read him some of his old quantum physics books as bedtime stories, but the only thing those were good for were exactly that, putting him to sleep. Though he did recall something about recurring time and the function of looping variables, it was all too complicated to remember vividly and it just made his headache worse.

“Good morning!” Papyrus bellowed as he entered, making the shopkeeper jump.

“Oh,” she held a hand to her chest, eyes widening as she finally smiled. “Don't scare me like that, fella! Come on in outta the cold, darlin'. What can I get for ya today?”

“I'll take both Junior Jumbles you have left,” he let the door swing shut behind him, the bell above going off with a little tinkle. “With the discount, please.”

“Now, I never said nothin' about a discount...” Bunni's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Papyrus mentally kicked himself. “But I do have a couple of those puzzle books left, yeah. That all?”

It was clear from her posture that she was uncomfortable and Papyrus made a mental note in permanent marker and capital letters for future reference. If life was going to be crazy, why couldn't it be crazy in his advantage for once?

“Yes please, if you don't mind!” he gave her a hopefully winning smile. “And, say, would you happen to still be making those Cinnamon Bunnies?”

“I might,” she glanced him up and down. “You want one of them, too?”

“Oh, two please!” he held up a couple of fingers. “As a matter of fact, I just had one yesterday. It wasn't entirely terrible!”

“Well way to compliment me on my baking,” she snorted and Papyrus felt a heat rush into his cheek bones, shuffling his feet in embarrassment. He silently counted out the money for her and left in a hurry, rubbing the back of his head.

So, _that_ hadn't gone well. It was like the first couple of days all over. He let out a sigh as he readjusted the paper bag, silently noting that these particular couple of Cinnamon Bunnies seemed almost... _smaller_ than before, just ever so slightly. He shook his head and continued on past the Snowdin welcome sign. Maybe he was just going off his rocker. But he'd been reliving the same day, maybe he was _already_ crazy and just didn't know it. He found it odd that he kept a little silent hope for that. It at least seemed more plausible than time itself rewinding. He felt his shoulders slumping again as he struggled to keep his posture as he walked.

Would he ever make it to tomorrow? He felt intensely, somewhere deep in his soul, that if he could just catch a human _perfectly_ then this would somehow all magically make sense. But it seemed like such a faraway, lofty goal. Nearly impossible. But he'd technically caught a human before, right? Or at the very least, had dinner and a movie with.

“Wait, did I go on a _date_?” he blurted in disbelief aloud to no one in particular. He looked around feverishly for a moment, pretending to cough and readjust his scarf so that he could better hide his glowing cheeks. He'd never actually been on a date – in fact, the dating rule book that he'd snagged from the library had even had a section about dinner and dates. Was he supposed to pay for it if he was the one that made the dinner? But then again the human did sort of steal money out of their couch, would that counteract the rule from the book? Papyrus's head was swimming just from the confusion.

He silently wished he was a fast reader like Sans. His brother could tear through books like nobody's business, and actually remember what he'd read. Unfortunately Papyrus had only gotten good looks, which wouldn't get you everywhere in the world. He pushed down that pang of envy of his brother. Maybe he should take some more time to read, he thought mildly as he made his way past the invisible electric maze puzzle once again. He felt silly for expecting to see his own footprints in the snow, but of course, he hadn't left them there yet.

The realization made that dissonant, uneasy feeling come rushing back. The feeling one got when there was something almost _sinister_ hiding just behind a magic eye puzzle. Like if you turned around too quickly you'd see a hand vanish from your shoulder. It made his head shudder and quickly stopped thinking about it. He couldn't go losing it now.

He had work to do.

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus marched back and forth in front of his sentry station.

He checked up every now and then to look down the road leading to the Ruins. His arms remained folded in front of him and he intertwined his fingers before just letting his arms swing by his sides, repeating the process again and again. Stars and stones, he was so tired. He'd worn a new path in the road, snow trampled down from his circular motions in a big figure eight. He let out a burst of steam through his nostril bone and stared down the road once more. He kept expecting the human to come bounding out through those big locked doors, calmly walking over the bridge and right to him, but they never came. He went through the paper bag a couple of times and ate one of the Cinnamon Bunnies, tempted to have the second to fill his stomach but immediately denied the hunger. The human would probably be hungry when they came back, so he could wait a bit longer.

He paced back and forth for hours, occasionally checking his phone for messages. He thought about texting Undyne for an impromptu cooking lesson, he always had room to improve. She was likely up at this time of morning, and just thinking about it made him yawn. He was always an early riser, but he was beginning to regret it with how tired he felt. Papyrus rolled his shoulders and shook himself a bit to stay awake, checking up the road to see if they had arrived yet. He found himself just a little disappointed that they hadn't shown up, despite the fact that so many times had ended with his untimely demise.

“Howdy!”

Papyrus _jolted_ hard but smiled when he saw the little flower sticking up from the ground between his feet.

“Oh! Hello, Flowey!” he patted the flower, watching it almost _recoil_ from the touch, but didn't say anything about it. “Goodness, you could have been stepped on! You should be more careful, little friend!”  
“Funny you should say that...” Flowey said with a knowing wink. Papyrus, however, did not get it.

“I'm serious, Flowey! Nyeh heh, you scared the calcium right out of me,” he said somewhat jokingly. “But I am glad that you showed up. I'm happy to see you!”  
“Why, I'm happy to see you too, Papyrus!” he responded with that vacant smile of his. “You look like you have something on your mind, huh?”

“Well, I suppose you're right...” Papyrus knelt down in the snow to see him a bit better. “Things have been very... _off_ lately.”  
“Whatever do you mean, Papyrus?”

“I mean-” he tapped his phalanges together awkwardly. “Have you noticed anything, well... _bizarre_ going on lately?”  
“Nope!” Flowey responded promptly. “Gosh, it's just been little ol' me, minding my business!”

“I see,” Papyrus frowned slightly, looking back toward the bridge.

“Expecting the human?”

Papyrus blinked and looked back down to him, feeling that uneasy sensation creeping up his spine again. Maybe it was that hollow stare that Flowey was giving him, maybe it was his (_ugh, the pun_) gut instinct, but he felt like something was just... _wrong_ about this whole situation. He wound up on his feet again, arms crossed over his chest.

“Flowey,” he cleared his throat. “Remember the other night when we had our talk?”

“Hmm...” Flowey made a show of tapping what could have been called his chin with the tip of a vine he pulled from the earth. “Why, now that you mention it, yes I _do_, Papyrus. Why do you ask?”

“You knew about the human coming through,” he tried to say as calmly as he could. “Right?”

“Yep indeedy!” Flowey giggled and stuck out his tongue, bouncing a little on his stem. “What a nasty piece of work, am I right?”

“Yes, well, about that...” he shifted uneasily from foot to foot. “You wouldn't happen to know anything about them, would you?”  
“Oh, silly Papyrus...” his eyes darkened significantly as his smile grew far, far too large, revealing quite a surprising number of sharp looking teeth. “I know _lots_ of things.”

That didn't really answer any questions, and the tilted grin that Flowey was giving him wasn't revealing anything either except for his sudden realization that he did _not_ like the look he was giving him. Papyrus eventually sighed and ran a hand down his face, resisting the urge to rub his aching temples.

“I've...” he started unceremoniously before clearing his throat. “I mean, I've been having a very strange day, you see. And I'm not really sure... how to talk about it?” he finished lamely, letting his arms drop to his side.

“Aww. Come here, buddy!” Flowey wiggled for him to move closer, his tone dropping a few octaves as his voice returned to normal. “Don't you know by now? You can tell your old pal Flowey _anything_. I won't tell a single soul,” he winked, and Papyrus could have sworn he saw a little magical star pop from his eye. “I _promise_.”

“Well,” he felt his resolve slowly crumbling as he sat next to the flower, cross legged for comfort. “This is going to sound off the wall and totally _insane_, but... I've been reliving the exact same day, again and again, and I have no idea _why_.”

“Oh, my goodness!” Flowey's eyes widened. “Well, that certainly _does_ sound insane. Are you _sure_ you aren't going _crazy_, Papyrus?”

“I-I think,” he stuttered uncertainly. “I mean, I _hope_. I mean, I _think?_ This has all been so very confusing...”

“Mm-hmm, I see, I see...” Flowey rubbed his 'chin' again with a vine, looking very intently into the ground for a long moment before slapping it into the ground. “Well, that doesn't change a thing! Why, we're still the _bestest_ of buddies, Papyrus! And I just want you to know,” he wound a vine up to his shoulder to pat him comfortingly. “That your friend Flowey is _always_ here for you.”

“I – t-thank you, Flowey,” Papyrus felt his eye sockets stinging. Big bones didn't cry, he _wouldn't _cry, he certainly wasn't crying as he wiped his eye sockets with the flat of his hands.

“Aww, it's _okay_, pal!” Flowey perked up a little, withdrawing his vines into the ground. “Gosh, you must be _really_ bothered by all this, huh?”

“I just have so many _questions!_” he didn't mean to shout, not even realizing that Flowey coolly dodged out of the way of his flailing arms. The tears definitely weren't helping him feel any better, and he dried them furiously. “I mean, what is even going _on_ anymore? Am I losing my mind? Is god punishing me for my greatness? Am I going completely-”

“Whoa whoa _hey _now...!” Flowey was swift to soothe him. “Papyrus, Papyrus, Papyrus. Clever, handsome, gentle Papyrus,” he beamed up at him. “Sweet, ignorant, bumbling, _simple-_”

“Okay I get it,” he deadpanned.

“Papyrus,” he finished. “Look at me. It's _Flowey_ talking. Now, would I ever _lie_ to you?”

“Wh- no, of course not,” he shook his head fiercely.

“So believe me when I say this,” Flowey's smile widened. “This is the universe's way, a _greater power's _way, if you will, of telling you – telling you that you have another _chance_, huh? Huh?”

“I don't know...” Papyrus rubbed the nape of his neck with one hand. “There are so many things that I don't _know._”

“And that's why you have _me_, silly!” Flowey tittered that empty laugh of his. “I know all sorts of _secrets_. Why, I'll bet some of them might even be useful to someone in your position!”

“So-so you _can_ help?” Papyrus asked hopefully.

“I thought you'd _never_ ask,” he smirked. “What you need is someone like, say for example_, me_ giving you directions. Goodness knows how else you'd get anything done. Your pal Flowey wouldn't leave you twisting in the wind!”

“But the _human_,” Papyrus insisted. “Flowey, I know that this is going to sound crazy too, but-but they've _killed_ me before-”

“And that's why you have to kill them first, silly!”

Papyrus felt his marrow run _cold._

“... What?” he hardly dared to breathe.

“Well, what other choice do you have?” Flowey gave him another wink. “You're reliving the same day for a reason, right? You've met a remorseless killer. Do you know what _happens_ when you meet a remorseless killer?” he added in a hushed tone, grin widening as Papyrus leaned in to hear him. “You'll die and you'll die and you'll _die._ Until you tire of trying. And what will you do then?”

Papyrus didn't really have a good answer for that. He clenched his fists into his lap, unable to meet his gaze.

“You have to kill them eventually, you know,” Flowey said in that knowing tone of his. “It's the only way.”

“I- I don't believe that,” he mumbled.  
“What was that?”

“I don't believe that!” Papyrus stood immediately, hands clenched into fists. “No – there _has_ to be another way!”

“And you'll try them all, won't you?” Flowey's unnaturally sharp grin was back, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side, petals curled back. “Every single one. Until you _snap._”

“I won't,” he was pacing again, pounding a fist into one hand. “I just _know_ that they can be a good person – maybe that's the key to all of this?” he ran a hand over his head, getting more excited. “I mean, who knows?”  
“Who indeed,” Flowey replied dryly, wriggling back down to a lower level. “Look at it this way, Papyrus. You would consider yourself great, right? Who wouldn't?”  
“Right?” he threw out his arms. “Why does it take so much just to get some recognition?”

“Maybe _that's_ what it is,” he gave another sly wink. “This is your chance to be – get this, Papyrus – even _greater_. I mean, you've ventured blindly into the realm of the _gods_, after all.”

“What does that mean?” he asked, staring at him.

“What do _you_ think it means, silly?” the flower giggled in a rehearsed little laugh. “I _mean_, you've got a chance that nobody else would _ever_ get. Why not take advantage of your situation, hmm?”

Papyrus didn't really have a good answer for that one, either.

“Just a little food for thought,” Flowey gave what might have been described as a leafy shrug. “Think it over, will you not? Aww, that's okay,” he smiled. “I know you will.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving Papyrus standing in the snow, even more baffled and confused than he had been before.

Flowey was wrong about a lot of things, he intently reminded himself. He just _had_ to be. But Flowey certainly was right about one thing, and Papyrus knew that even before he waited in futility for the human to arrive. He was certainly thinking over a lot of things as he stood impatiently behind his sentry station, for hours and hours and hours, until he was so tired that his eye sockets began to droop.

0-0-0-0-0

And then the alarm clock went off.

0-0-0-0-0


	8. Bad Karma

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus was finding himself slower and slower to get out of bed lately. Frankly, he didn't even want to bother shutting off the alarm, instead bathed in its rhythmic obnoxious tones for a while. He finally managed to slap wearily at the alarm clock a few times to shut it off, careful not to smash it this time. Not like it would matter much if he did, but it was the principle of the thing. Papyrus sighed and kept his tired eye sockets open, staring through the dim light up at the ceiling.

The human, Frisk, hadn't even bothered showing up yesterday. Maybe they were spending the time to reflect and internally debate as much as he was lately? He hoped so. It meant that they were on the road to becoming a better person. But given the last few reruns, his hope was ever so slightly starting to... dwindle. Flowey's words bounced around in his head just as much as before, no matter how much he wanted to ignore them. His little friend always did have a strange way of knowing things. If only he could remember these reruns like Frisk and himself seemed to be able to do, that would certainly make the situation a whole lot better, right? But he supposed it was a bit too much to expect. Just having someone to talk to about it all would be appreciated, and Flowey's previous insistence upon some rather... _violent_ tendencies left his nonexistent stomach churning.

He finally rolled himself into an upright position, leaning back with his legs pulled up as he stared through the dark, mind and soul heavy with contemplation. He felt something stir in him the longer he sat there, the itch to actually catch a human today taking precedence over his worries. But instead of dressing and leaving early, this time Papyrus had a different plan forming the longer that he stared at the screensaver bouncing around his old computer screen.

He readjusted his pajamas as he sat in the rickety chair, the groaning of wood barely supporting him as he clicked and clacked away at the keyboard, signing into his Undernet account. He had a couple of friends – acquaintances, but he liked to think of them as friends – that he could possibly talk to about all of this. He was only a couple of dozen digits away from a double digit follower count too, though today it didn't really do much for his esteem. Besides, he wasn't looking for anything like that. He needed answers, now more than ever.

_CoolSkeleton95 has logged on._

Sending out messages wasn't particularly investing as nobody was answering this early in the morning except for a single response from someone by the handle of Napstablook 22. He eagerly clicked on it in the middle of typing out another letter, and was mildly disappointed to find that the chat request seemed to have already rejected itself by the time he'd gotten to it. He let out a sigh through his nostril bone and rubbed his tired eye sockets, hardly feeling awake enough for this. So Papyrus made a decision that he felt he was going to regret and left just after the final message was sent. He still didn't bother dressing as he slipped out of his room, traipsing silently across the floor to his brother's door. He started to knock before chewing his tongue in thought, fidgeting with his hands for a moment before leaving Sans in peace. It was technically still the same day after all, and with as exhausted as his brother had been lately he wouldn't go involving him in this, no matter how much it made his soul ache. He descended the steps slowly, carefully so as to avoid the creaky one, making his way through the dark living room and toward the kitchen, flicking on the light.

The old coffee pot they'd recovered still sat on the counter top and he gave it a wary stare before finally letting out another heavy breath and set about preparing some coffee. The ground powder and water filled the pot and he was silently grateful Sans had managed to discover an electric one. He'd tried making coffee on the kettle before and it just had a nasty lingering in the metal that he didn't care for. At the very least, the slightly cracked glass pot wouldn't go corrupting the taste of tea. He'd have to pick up some more of that golden flower stuff from Undyne, she always knew where to get the best kind. Some nice hot tea sounded ideal at this time, he mused as the boiling brew finished and he fished around the kitchen for a usable coffee mug, pouring himself a watery black concoction. Maybe some honey would help, not too sweet but just sweet enough.

And then he heard the telltale  _ding!_ of a response from the computer upstairs.

Papyrus nearly spilled the coffee in his haphazard attempt to climb the stairs three at a time, narrowly avoiding tripping over himself in his excitement. He cautiously sat the coffee next to the computer screen and dropped into the wooden chair, the groan of displeasure from it sounding like an engine in the otherwise silent room. He typed as swiftly as he could into the message box.

_Alphys: hey what's up_

If there was anyone that would be interested in something like this, it  _had_ to be his online friend Doctor Alphys. Heck, he would say that she was almost as interested in catching a human as he was, if not just as much. She had been so accommodating helping him with some of his puzzles in the Snowdin forest too.

“I'm having... this little... problem,” he murmured as he typed, readjusting his position in the chair and drawing up a bit closer to type more evenly. He wasn't very fast at it, but the least he could do was be grammatically correct, even if he was only half awake. 

_Alphys: how can I help?_

Sent:  _You're an expert on humans, right?_

_Alphys: I mean I guess you could say that_

Sent: _Just a quick question, you've got video cameras set up around the Underground in case one comes through, right? Have you seen anything strange lately?_

_Alphys: no _

_Alphys: well_

_Alphys: I mean_

Papyrus leaned in a bit closer, taking a distracted sip of his coffee. He had to resist the urge to spit it back out and forced himself to swallow the hot brew, shuddering. Stars and stones, how did anyone _like_ this awful poison? But it was helping him to wake up, he supposed, and tried to keep his gaze glued to the screen as he drank the rest of it little by little.

_Alphys: why do you ask?_

Sent: _Something weird has been going on lately. A human came out of the Ruins._

There was a long pause and Papyrus shifted uneasily in his seat, uncertain of how much he should tell her. What if he said the wrong thing? What if he wound up scaring her off with his description of just how bizarre his life had been lately? He didn't want to blow his chance.

But then again, there was always tomorrow.

_Alphys: I've double checked all the security footage but I'm not seeing any humans, are u sure you found one?_

Sent:  _Well, no, not yet. But I am positive that one is going to come through._

_Alphys: lol CoolSkeleton95 that's a joke right_

Sent: _Would you happen to know anything about something crazy going on with time warping right now?_

Papyrus felt like he had made a grievous error, as there was no response for a long time. He sat and waited, and waited, and waited, but there were no more messages. He reluctantly refilled his coffee in the meantime, trying to adjust to the biting, bitter taste, bouncing his knee impatiently as he checked the time. It was almost another ten minutes before he got any kind of response.

_Alphys: y_

Well, that was better than nothing, he supposed.

Sent:  _Is it possible for time to loop back on itself?_

_Alphys: well I mean it's not entirely impossible though that sort of massive fluctuation in the time space continuum would likely result in unaccounted for anomalies as the recurring timeline could invariably see differential outcomes due to inconsistencies amongst the constants and-_

Papyrus sighed and rubbed his temples, trying to follow along. He was far too tired to keep up properly with all of this, and he had to scroll through a surprising amount of text from Alphys that was excessively complicated explanations of precisely how linear time functioned and could potentially function, and it was giving him a headache. He tried his best to pay attention, he really did, but it was difficult to even make sense of what she was saying, let alone commit it to memory.

Sent:  _Okay so hypothetically, is it possible for a single day to repeat itself without anyone having any memory of it when time loops again?_

_Alphys: oh totes_

“Great, very helpful,” he ran a hand down his face. “Eurgh.”

_Alphys: wait what does this have to do with a human lol_

Sent: _You've been a great help Doctor but I need to go. Thank you for everything._

He quickly shut the program down and dressed as quickly as he could, thoughts bouncing furiously around his head like a swarm of attention grabbing bees. He had even _more_ questions than he did before, and none of them were things he thought that he would ever be asking in the first place. And worse, his headache was back. Was this just something that he was going to have to get used to? He didn't like the idea. He made sure to check off the date on the calendar, more out of habit than anything at this point. Papyrus slipped on his gloves and crept out the door, leaving a hastily scribbled little note for Sans before he left. He half wondered if his brother would even bother with the leftovers when he was probably just going to wind up getting Grillby's for breakfast again, but he'd rather have his brother eat something unhealthy instead of going hungry. Or drinking ketchup. Yuck. So he left in silence.

Papyrus did not realize that he was being watched the entire time.

0-0-0-0-0

Just as today, and the day before, the snowfall was light this time of morning. Papyrus wrapped his scarf around himself a little tighter, lengthening his stride as he made his way past the library.

“Good morning, Barry!” he exclaimed loudly and the bear monster hanging outside by the corner jumped a little, giving him an odd look. “I see someone's doing the crossword today, how's it going so far?”

“Uh, y'know,” Barry's ears tilted back a bit as he stared at him, taking a sip from his steaming drink. “You one of them skeleton brothers that moved in, right?”

“Why yes I am!” he threw back his cape majestically. “We're pretty cool, right?”

“Uh huh,” the bear monster hardly looked up from his paper. Papyrus felt himself deflate just a little bit at his lack of interest, but pressed onward anyway.

“Say, you wouldn't happen to know anything about humans, would you?”

“Like I said to the rest of the Guard,” Barry took another drink and didn't even look up from his crossword. Papyrus was finding the monster increasingly rude. “I think I'd _know_ a human if I saw one, I'd be the first to report in to one of ya. That's just politics.”

Papyrus's headache was returning in full force the more he thought about it.

“I see,” Papyrus said eventually. “Well, if you need help with anything, the Great Papyrus is always here to help!”  
“Well,” Barry finally glanced in his direction. “Do you know a nine letter word for woodchuck?”

“Aside from woodchuck? Still no, but-”

Barry mumbled something that Papyrus wasn't keen on repeating. That uneasy tilting sensation was starting to come back and he promptly turned on the spot and continued along his way, shaking his head. That guy had been really grumpy the last few reruns. Maybe he could do something about it to ease the poor monster's rough morning. He let out a breath through his nostril bone and made his way to the shop, hands swinging by his side more and more fervently as he approached. He grasped the handle eagerly as he prepared to throw the door open like doors should be but pulled back at the last second, remembering Bunni's discomfort at how he had presented himself last time. Stars and stones he needed some rest, but he had coffee in him and convinced himself that his trembling hands were only because of that.

So, Papyrus cleared his throat a couple of times, gave himself a little shake, and carefully swung the door open, listening to the familiar tinkle of the bell.

“Good morning!” he tried to keep his voice lowered a bit and she smiled widely at him, her ears perking up.

“Oh! Come on in outta the cold, darlin'. What can I get for ya today?”

“Oh, the usual,” Papyrus leaned against the counter top tiredly, his back singing from how he'd been sitting earlier.

“Usual?” Bunni blinked, her ears curling down just a bit. “I'm 'fraid I don't think I ever seen ya in here before, darlin'.”

“Oh, I do apologize,” Papyrus corrected himself immediately, trying to smile a bit wider at her to hopefully make her feel at ease. He didn't want her to be awkward in his presence again. She was even kind of cute, in her own sort of way. Or maybe he was only just noticing since he was seeing so much of her lately. “Since we moved in we've made ourselves comfortable here in Snowdin where everyone is just _so_ friendly, you see, I suppose that I thought everyone knew my name by now. I am the Great Papyrus!” he held a hand to his chest, beaming at her before extending it to shake, which she took a moment to do. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Bunni!”

“Well, I guess I'm not gonna introduce myself,” she tittered lightly. “Since ya already know who _I_ am, guess my reputation precedes me.”

_Well, at least one of us has a decent reputation I guess._

“Say,” Papyrus asked after letting his arms hang by his sides. “I've been looking for a puzzle book or two to pick up for a friend, would you happen to carry any?”

“Matter of fact, I do!” Bunni nodded, giving him a glance up and down. She stacked a couple of the Junior Jumbles together on the wooden counter. “Got a couple left! Got a pretty good discount if'n you want 'em all.”

“Oh, how gracious of you,” Papyrus felt his soul aching as he forced a bit of a smile, feeling as though he were being manipulative for knowing she was going to say that if he was polite enough. But in for a G, in for a pound. Still felt bad for his karma though. “And, say, would you happen to still be making those cinnamon treats I've heard so much about?”

“Well, sure!” she perked up a bit more. “You feelin' hungry, fella? 'Cause you're about all skin and bones,” she gave him a wide grin.

“_Eurgh,_” he couldn't help but recoil at the pun, and her smile faltered for just a moment. He recovered quickly and wearily tried to keep his cool. “I mean, you would not believe just how often I hear that joke from my brother, he _loves_ terrible puns. Not that your jokes are bad!” Papyrus held up his hands defensively, feeling himself growing flustered already. “I mean, I don't mean to say that you have a terrible sense of humor or anything, I just-” he trailed off into a mumble and she just shook her head with an odd sort of stare.

“Kind of an awkward fella,” Bunni stacked the puzzles and a couple of the treats into a bag for him. “Now, your brother, he stopped by a few times before, I think he mentioned ya.”

“Oh really?” Papyrus's focus grew a little sharper.

Bunni only rubbed the back of her ear and gave him that searching kind of look again that he didn't know quite what to do with. 

“Yeah, singin' your praises and all,” Papyrus felt a swell in his chest all of a sudden.

“Well, are you really surprised?” he scoffed, throwing back his scarf. “I mean, I am called the _Great_ Papyrus after all!”

“He didn't mention you were so smarmy,” Bunni added dryly, and it felt like his soul was shriveling. “This all for ya, darlin'?”

“... Yes,” he coughed lamely into his fist, desperate for a rapid end to the conversation so that she could stop staring at his blush. He counted out the change, fumbling and making swiftly for the exit, shaking his head as he stomped through the snow with the bag tucked under one arm. 

Once again, he'd made a fool of himself in front of her, and it  _stung_ just a bit more than he expected it to. How was anyone supposed to look up to him if he couldn't even make it through a normal conversation without making himself look like a jerk? He shook his head and walked in pensive silence through the powder snow, downcast. She probably thought he was some kind of fool. But he knew a few things about her, at least, he promised to himself to remember. She liked it when people were polite. She was easily startled, and seemed to dislike loudness. Sure, he could work with that. His inside voice was pretty good too. Obviously he was just going to have to up the charm a bit, and if there was one thing that he could count on, it was his magnificent and magnetic personality.

_Smarmy._

His steps slowed for a beat before picking up again. He strode in complete silence as he thought several things over. He really needed to learn the correct line between coming off as confident and overconfident. Maybe that was just one more thing that he could master. And what couldn't he? He was the  _Great_ Papyrus. He could do anything if he put his mind to it.

“Including catching a human,” he said through his teeth as he dropped the supplies rather unceremoniously at the sentry station. Flowey didn't seem to be around today, but he was actually okay with that. Normally Papyrus was all for spending time with his number one fan, but lately, Flowey's company had felt a little... discomforting.

He liked Flowey, he really did. He knew that his friend had some issues, and he would always be there for him when he was needed. But it seemed like Flowey had just been getting a little weirder lately. Then again, everything about his life had been getting weirder, so maybe it wasn't that strange after all. Papyrus paced in the snow as he thought. Even Flowey seemed to think that he was going crazy, and Flowey believed in him almost as much as he himself did. But maybe he  _was_ going mad, would he even know if he was? That nagging sensation that it was all in his head kept bouncing around, and how he  _hated_ it. No, he just had to remain firm in his convictions, no matter what. He had to stay determined.

_But what if you're wrong?_ That nasty little voice chimed in.  _You seem to be wrong a lot lately..._

Papyrus shook his head, leaning tiredly against the sentry station. He hardly realized that he'd been in front of his brother's sentry station this whole time instead of his own, but in hindsight he wasn't really all that bothered. A little, but not a lot. Besides, it wasn't like Sans spent much time there, and it was nicer than his anyway, so what could it hurt? Papyrus ate one of the Cinnamon Bunnies (he was  _positive_ that this one was bigger than the last) and absentmindedly did one of the Jumble puzzles as he waited, intermittently checking up for the human. 

The puzzle had almost been finished when he heard a  _crack_ in the distance. His head popped up and he left the booklet on the sentry station, dusting himself off and trying to make himself look as impressively presentable as he possibly could. He found himself getting more and more eager when he saw the little figure in the distance growing larger and larger, and he stood prepared in the road. He could see their head bobbing as they walked through the gate, like they were listening to something that he couldn't hear. Frisk's hair was hanging over their eyes, their arms limp as they walked, and he felt a sharp stinging in his soul when he saw that familiar, dusty knife clutched in their hand.

“I was wondering when you were going to show up!” Papyrus decided to go for the more cheerful approach, recalling quite vividly the pain shooting through his sternum but pushing the memory down. “Good morning, human friend!”

They paused for a moment, watching as he picked up the bag and started to rifle through it.

“So! About that Junior Jumble,” he calmly said as they approached, hands clenched tight at their side. “Oh, and here, this is for you,” Papyrus held out the Cinnamon Bunny to them, and they paused again, eventually leaning back a little and giving him that odd, tilted sort of stare.

“... Why?” Frisk asked softly.

“Well, you still need breakfast,” he explained as they took it from his outstretched hand. They seemed reluctant to eat this time. “Skipping meals isn't good for you, you know, even if you are, erhm... _busy,_” he finished uncomfortably as he tried not to stare at their clearly dusty hands, watching as they tore into the treat like a starving animal. He patiently leaned back against the sentry station with his arms folded and waited for them to finish. Frisk wiped their hands on their striped shirt before looking back up at him expectantly.

“... Okay, so, when someone gives you something,” he tried to keep down the uneasiness that was rising again the longer that they stared at him. “Here we say something like, 'golly, thanks', to show that we're grateful.”

“Golly thanks,” Frisk stated blandly.

“You're welcome, Frisk-”

Papyrus barely managed to sidestep the sudden  _lunge_ that came from them, the knife nicking the sentry station. They righted themself quickly and swung again as they turned toward him, but Papyrus was ready this time, back stepping just a hair's breadth out of the way.

“Okay!” he held up his hands in front of him in distress. “I understand, it's not as good as breakfast spaghetti, I'll bring pasta next time.”

Frisk swung again and sliced through a piece of his armor as he dodged back again, his soul pounding so loudly that he could feel it in his head. 

“Are we really doing this again?” Papyrus asked pleadingly, trying his best to keep his voice calm to keep from spooking them. “Come on now, there's really no need for this kind of be_havior-!_” he just barely managed to slip to the side and lost an entire slice clean out of his battle body, just how sharp _was_ that knife anyway? 

“Come on, Frisk...” he tried to smile comfortingly at them as they stalked over the snow toward him, the distance shrinking quickly. “You don't _have_ to do this, you know. Can't we just be friends?”

“I don't have any friends,” Frisk responded as they raised the knife.  
“Now, that's not true. You have me.”

He was expecting that painful, wrenching agony to be tearing through his chest again, splitting him from stem to stern, so fearful he was of the impending impact that he didn't even realize that he was squeezing his eye sockets shut. But he was swift to open them, half in surprise as he saw Frisk just sort of... standing there, unable to raise their head to look him in the eye sockets. He let out a breath of relief and knelt deliberately before them, keeping his movements clear and slow. Their shoulders were shaking, and he could see a couple tears trickling down one cheek from their hair hidden eyes. Papyrus couldn't hold himself back anymore and carefully leaned in and swung his arms around them to give them a hug just like before. He felt their arms slide up and wrap around his back, their shoulders trembling furiously as they shook in dead silence.

“It's okay, little one,” he closed his eye sockets and let out an unsteady breath. “All is forgiven.”

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus awoke to the sound of a ringing alarm. His eye sockets snapped open and he smashed the stupid thing without even rolling over. He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling with one hand clutched to his wretchedly aching chest, a slow, unfamiliar, unpleasantly _dark_ feeling growing just a bit more prominently in him.

“... Okay,” he said aloud and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nostril bone as he let out a sigh. “Getting _real_ sick of your _shit,_ Frisk.”

0-0-0-0-0


	9. Promises

0-0-0-0-0

He wasn't sure when it started, or if he was only just noticing it, but he knew it in his core.

Something smelled... _wrong._

He couldn't identify exactly what it was, but it was unpleasant, low and lingering, something he couldn't quite make out. For some reason it got on his nerves that he could not really identify just what it was. It didn't really seem to be coming from anywhere. Just something lurking under the surface of his senses. It bothered him.

Papyrus dressed as quickly as he could this time, the aggravation most prominent in his mind. He refused to get properly angry if he could manage it, but stars above it was a challenge. If anything, it was more infuriating the harder he tried. Couldn't he make it through just _one _day? Was that really so much to ask? Maybe it was something he had done wrong, it simply must have been. He must have made a mistake somewhere throughout the day, made some easily missed error; he clung to the admittedly somewhat naive notion that if he could just catch a human, just once, _perfectly, _he could make it through all this craziness unscathed. He hurriedly checked off the date on the calendar as he went about his business. Tuesday. Again. He had had _quite_ enough of today, thank you very much. He was fed up with this day, and it had hardly even started. He only barely managed to remember his gloves and slipped them on before stomping out the door, and began banging heavily on his brother's.

“Sans!” he shouted. “Come on, wake up you lazybones!”

“What time is it?” the door peeled open just a crack, revealing the tired face of the stocky skeleton. “Is it tomorrow yet?”

“We're catching a human today, Sans!” he adjusted his scarf as he made his way downstairs. “No time to slack off! Come on, I'll make some breakfast!”

“If you say so,” Sans slouched as he trundled down the stairs after him, hiding a heavy yawn. “You sure are excited about catchin' this human today, huh?”

“You have _no _idea,” Papyrus threw the pots and pans on the stove, going about his work in a rushed manner. The noodles couldn't be too firm this time, but not too soggy or it would ruin the texture – he was whipping frantically as he added the spaghetti sauce, grabbing ingredients as quickly as he could, twisting and turning about the kitchen like a bony dervish.

“... You feelin' alright, Paps?” Sans asked after a while, sitting in relative silence at the kitchen table.

“Never better,” Papyrus answered distractedly as he stirred fervently. “Now quiet Sans, I'm working on sculpting the greatest masterpiece I've ever concocted!”

Papyrus worked hard at this one. He made a silent promise to himself that this would be better than the last. His skull was pouring sweat as he leaned over the boiling noodles, adding a pinch of salt. Not too much, just enough. A sprig of garlic, maybe a dash of olive oil; it didn't take long to complete his latest masterpiece. He made sure to give Sans a healthy heaping, though from the way he stared at it, it was pretty apparent he wasn't too enthused.

“Make sure you eat breakfast today, please?” Papyrus threw the dishes into the sink and began scrubbing furiously, letting the hot water run through his phalanges. “I _know_ today is going to be important, I will be the one to catch a human! I _must_ be the one!”

“Paps, are you sure you're okay?” the worry in his brother's voice gave him pause, if only for the briefest of moments.

“Never better,” he expeditiously threw together a spare plate of breakfast spaghetti and wrapped it with expert hands. “Get moving about, have some breakfast, and don't be late this time!”

“I'll make an effort to be extra late,” he winked, and was shocked backwards when Papyrus's fist _slammed_ against the table. It was dead silent in the kitchen, Sans's eye sockets wide with alarm, almost _fearful_, and Papyrus had to take a split second to really reevaluate some things.

“Sans,” Papyrus's fist clenched as he pulled his arm back to his side, careful not to drop the spaghetti with the other. His tone was less sharp, his voice hardly above a whisper, but he was heard nonetheless. “Just trust me that you shouldn't slack off today. Okay, brother?”

“O-okay Paps,” Sans finally gave a weak grin, but it was a hollow one. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

Sans wasn't one to cave in so easily when there was work to be done and he could easily waste his time. He wasn't one to comply with demands when Papyrus insisted he do even the most menial of tasks. And he certainly wasn't one to be afraid.

Not of anything.

Not of _him._

_And yet..._

“I-I'm sorry, brother,” Papyrus croaked, his throat suddenly feeling uncomfortably tight. Sans still wouldn't look him in the eye sockets, and it was making him incredibly uneasy and guilty at the same time. “I didn't mean to shout at you like that.”

“Ay, fuhgeddaboudit,” Sans waved him off with his sockets half lidded, that lazy plastered on grin the same as ever, but it just felt _off_, and it was bothering him immensely. “Just surprised me is all.”

“Today is going to be important, Sans,” he straightened up and made sure his scarf was positioned properly with one hand. “I can feel it.”

“In your bones?”

“Ha and also ha,” he deadpanned, giving up and throwing the scarf on the table. “Your jokes are so terrible I think I forgot how to laugh.”

“Harsh,” Sans cringed openly, but his smirk remained. “I hoped you'd like 'em, to _patella_ the truth.”

“I am leaving!” Papyrus spun on his heel, the snickering from his brother making his brow bone twitch. “Before I have to hear one more awful pun! I swear, there's _nothing _worse than puns!”

“That takes some spine!” Papyrus groaned as Sans called after him. “Don't worry, you're going _tibia_ okay!”

“YOU'RE THE _WORST!_” he felt actual bile rising as he pulled the door closed behind him, and at last let out a relieved sigh. That moment was cut short and he jolted hard when he saw his brother standing before him outside the house, wearing what could only be referred to colloquially as 'that shit-eating grin of his'.

“Forgot your scarf,” he was clearly holding something back, his shoulders trembling as he stared up at him with his hand outstretched, cloth dancing in the wind. For a split second Papyrus felt something familiar twinge in his chest, ringing painfully, and he took it in silent thanks.

“... Wouldn't wanna get sick and catch a _femur_-”

“FOR _TEN SECONDS,_” Papyrus shrieked indignantly over the sound of his brother's burst of laughter. “Could you not, could you _just not_, for _ten freaking seconds?_”

“I couldn't not not, bro.”

“That's too many negatives!”

“Really?” Sans tittered. “Are you positive it's a negative?”

Papyrus's eye sockets went dark.

Sans had another pun halfway out before his voice died in his throat, his smile dipping slightly as the worried look returned in full force. Papyrus silently took the scarf and threw it on haphazardly, one hand still holding the spaghetti, the other hanging limply at his side. Neither of them said a word, neither of them moved. Papyrus knew that the busy morning life of Snowdin was just starting around them, but it all bounced off, like a field of quiet had sprung up from the snow.

“... I'm going to go now,” Papyrus said evenly through clenched teeth.

“O-okay Paps,” he muttered, shrinking back a little.

“What's the matter?” he asked his brother quietly. “Got cold feet?”

“I don't-”

And then Sans realized why Papyrus wasn't looking directly at him; rather, at his shoes. Or lack thereof. 

“... Was that intentional?” Sans asked at last, a weak smile forming.

“Let's both just pretend it was,” Papyrus gave him a small smile back and patted him on the head, earning a surprised blink from him. “Please put actual clothes on today.”

“No promises,” Sans chuckled.

“Close enough,” he threw up his arm and spun on the spot, marching away. “And be at your station on time!” Papyrus shouted over his shoulder before he left, but Sans was already gone. He hadn't even seen or heard the front door opening, so it must have been another one of those little 'shortcut' tricks his brother seemed so fond of. He let out a sigh and straightened up a bit as he walked. Wouldn't want the locals to think he was some kind of slouchy do-nothing type of skeleton.

“Good morning, Barry,” Papyrus waved tiredly to the bear monster leaned up against the wall outside the library, crossword puzzle in one hand. The monster only barely registered his very existence, shifting and taking a sip of his piping brew. “Seen anything strange lately?”

“Y'mean aside from you,” Barry _almost_ went unheard, and something clawed rather viciously in Papyrus's chest at that. “If I see anything, I'll report it to th' Guard. That's just pol-”

“Just politics yes I got it,” he gritted his teeth and kept marching, that unpleasant darkness both unfamiliar and thoroughly unwanted. Good grief, maybe that guy needed more than a single cup of coffee.

_He can take the whole coffee pot and shove-_

Papyrus shook his head forcefully, wordlessly urging himself onward. With the kind of day he'd been having, maybe a stiff drink would do good for himself. But he shook his head again and took longer strides. If these reruns were anything like before, he could handle it. It wasn't like anything could drive him to drink. Besides, alcohol was a poison to the body and soul. He had a will of iron, and that was plenty.

He made his way over to Bunni's shop across from the inn, staring wanly up at the wooden door. He steeled himself before entering making sure to keep his movements slower and more deliberate.

“Good morning!” he gave her his best winning smile. She perked up instantly upon his arrival, ears flicking toward him. “Excuse me, ma'am, but would you happen to be Bunni?”

“Oh! Sure am!” Bunni gave him a toothy smile. “My sis next door send ya over?”

“You have a sister?” he blinked as the door closed with a chime behind him.

“Have you not met her?” Bunni leaned against the countertop, watching as he carefully kicked his boots dry on the mat. “Real swell gal, you'd like her, I bet. Just about everybody does.”

“Maybe you could introduce me sometime,” he put a hand on his hip, smiling back at her. “If she's anything like you, I'm sure she's great.”

“Aw, ain't you the flatterer,” Bunni actually giggled at that. “So you come lookin' for somethin' coated in sugar, or just like bein' the sweetest thing in the room?”

“Are _you_ the one that makes those wonderful cinnamon treats?” Papyrus asked in faux shock, holding a hand to his chest for dramatic flair. Her brows rose ever so slightly. “Oh, well then I'm doubly glad I met you, those desserts of yours are wonderful!”

“You like 'em that much?” she actually seemed to be growing some color in her fuzzy cheeks.

“They're to _die_ for,” Papyrus felt like his soul was being drenched in grease. But he'd come this far, might as well take as many steps as he could. He was rewarded with a slowly expanding smile, and watched as she actually ducked her head and rubbed the back of her neck somewhat sheepishly, glancing back up at him only occasionally.

“Well, shucks, if you like 'em that bad, I'll just give my latest batch to ya for free.”

“Really?” Papyrus almost slipped, careful to catch himself on the counter and leaning into it in one swift motion, desperately hoping that it came off as cool rather than clumsy. “Because I'd be _delighted_.”

The rush of color in her cheeks was obvious, at least to him. But maybe that was because he'd been paying more attention to her lately, and knew what to look for. It took him a moment to realize that he'd been staring into her violet eyes a little too long, and he pulled away and righted himself as she tucked a bunch of cinnamon bunnies into a bag for him.

“So...” Papyrus tapped one hand against his leg as she finished. “This is going to sound crazy, but do you ever get the feeling of deja vu?”

“Is that the best pickup line ya got, darlin'?” Bunni tittered as he took the bag, tucking it carefully under the arm holding the wrapped spaghetti. She glanced at it and he blinked again.

“Oh! This is for a friend,” he explained.

“Ah, your friend,” she seemed to deflate just a little bit. Papyrus didn't know for certain, but he felt as though he'd said the wrong thing, and internally kicked himself.

“They really seem to like your baking,” Papyrus continued. “Met them a few days ago, poor thing must have been starving, so I've been making sure to bring them a little extra when I can.”

“Well, if you ain't just the picture of a local hero,” Bunni's smile softened as she leaned against the counter. Something welled in his chest and his throat clenched up a little bit, but he shoved the feeling down and forced a smile of his own.

“Nyeh heh, that's Papyrus!” he couldn't help but puff up a bit. “Local hero, everyone's friendly neighborhood skeleton pal!”

“Papyrus,” she rolled the word around her mouth. “Good name for a good fella, if ya ask me.”

“It's been a great time,” Papyrus tried not to worry about the seconds ticking away and opened the door to the shop. He wordlessly promised himself that he would show a bit more gratitude to her in the future. If he ever got there. “Thanks for everything, Bunni.”  
“Don't mention it, sweetheart!” she called after him as she was left alone once again. Silence reigned over the place for the longest time, and his question bounced around her head again and again.

For some reason, he really did seem almost familiar.

0-0-0-0-0

The snow crunched rhythmically underfoot as he paced, both the bag of cinnamon treats and spaghetti growing colder as they sat forlornly on the sentry station. Papyrus let out a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest as he walked, unwanted thoughts pestering him through the thick silence. They still hadn't arrived, and it had been over an hour.

The human had to have answers, they just _had_ to. Papyrus was reliving the exact same day over and over again for a _reason,_ he could feel it. But that raised more questions. Just because he felt a certain way didn't necessarily mean that it was seated in fact. He had to view this particular dilemma from an objective standpoint and reason his way to an empirical truth. The human, Frisk; they had seemed so _distressed_ lately. Something was bothering them. But that much was obvious. If he went on some kind of obsessed murder spree like they did he'd probably be bothered too. That, however, was a supremely upsetting line of thought and he refused to contemplate on it longer than necessary.

What if human Frisk had been experiencing this for even longer than he had? It occurred to him that he didn't really know much about them aside from their inclination toward dusting innocent people and that they seemed almost constantly hungry. He would make sure to ask them before the next time they decided to murder him.

It was probably not such a good thing that he was treating his actual, quite painful death with such blasé acceptance, but if he couldn't stay dead then that just meant he could use his own end as a stepping stone toward actual answers. Would that make him technically immortal? Papyrus certainly didn't care for the idea. Living forever seemed even more upsetting. It meant he could lose everyone he cared about and be forced to continue living, on and on and on.

_So, just how far am I willing to go for answers..._

“Howdy!”

Papyrus let out a sigh through his nostril bone, a little puff of steam rising above his head as he stopped in his tracks.

“Hello, Flowey,” Papyrus answered wearily, kneeling down to be closer to eye level with his small friend. He hadn't been expecting Flowey to pop up between his boots. “You really need to be more careful, Flowey. I really don't want to step on you.”

“Aw, don't worry!” Flowey winked at him. “Wouldn't hurt anyway. I can't feel anything. Not even pain. Believe me,” his smile seemed just a bit more hollow. “I've tried.”

“How are you doing, little one?” Papyrus put one hand on his knee for stability.

“Oh, you know,” he responded conversationally, tilting to one side on his stem. “Doing a bit of this, a bit of that. I've got my vines in a dozen different pies, you know.”

“I see.”

“Speaking of delectable delicacies,” Flowey eyed the bag on the sentry station. “Gosh! I can't believe you managed to swindle that shopkeeper out of so many treats. You really pulled the wool over her eyes, huh?”

“You were watching that?” Papyrus's eye sockets widened in alarm, the shame rushing right back through his chest.

“Ee-yuh-huh!” Flowey giggled in that rehearsed little tone of his. “Golly, I never thought I'd see the day the Great Papyrus grows a silver tongue!”

“It's-it's not like that,” he insisted guiltily. “Bunni was just-just happy someone complimented her baking is all!”

“Is that right,” the flower tilted in the other direction, his gaze never losing that steely, unwavering stare. “So all that flirting wasn't just for show, huh?” he continued, and Papyrus discovered that he hadn't even noticed the vine that had crept up his back and latched firmly onto his shoulder. “Golly. Almost makes me _jealous._”

Papyrus really, _really_ didn't like how he said that.

“But hey!” the vine retreated instantly and Flowey bounced up on his stem. “Not like I can feel that either! Tee hee.”

“Yes, well-” Papyrus shifted uncomfortably, standing upright once more. “You wouldn't happen to have seen a human around lately, have you?”

“Hmm...” Flowey tapped his chin with another vine, clearly taking his time. “Why, I don't believe I have, Papyrus. Maybe they crept right by you while you were walking!”

_Just how long has he been watching me...?_

“I'm positive I'd have noticed,” Papyrus insisted.

“Hmm,” he tilted again with that knowing, assured smile. “But are you _really_ sure though.”

“W-well, I-”

“You've been acting awfully strange today!” Flowey interrupted. “Gosh Papyrus, are you feeling alright?”

“... No,” Papyrus felt like crying. He rubbed his itching eye sockets with the flat of his palms, letting out an irritated puff through his clenched teeth, his shoulders beginning to quake with the effort it took just to keep composure. “No, Flowey, I don't think I'm exactly okay.”

“Ha ha! Not going _crazy_ on me, are you Papyrus?”

“No, no of course not!” he blurted. “I'm not crazy, I'm not!”

“If you say so,” Flowey tittered again. “But hey, your old pal _Flowey_ doesn't think you're _crazy_. I'm an _excellent_ judge of character.”

“That-that means a lot to me, Flowey,” Papyrus sighed in relief, not even realizing just how badly his hands had begun trembling. He balled them into fists and crossed them over his chest in attempt to still himself.

“Say, it's been a while since you visited Undyne, huh?” Flowey interjected. His little eyes narrowed just a bit, his smile widening. “I'll bet she's missing you. How long has it been since you've trained with her, Papyrus?”

“It's... been a little while,” he admitted as he ran a gloved hand over his head. “But I can't go see her right now, I have to keep a watch out for the human!”

“Tell you what,” Flowey leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper, prompting him to bend down closer to the ground just to hear him. “Why don't you go visit Undyne, and I'll stay here and watch for the human, huh?”

“I mean I can't just-”

“And the very _moment_ I see them, I can come and get you!” Flowey's smile grew to almost unsettling proportions. “After all, you wouldn't want to get hurt by being unprepared for the human, would you?”

“That... that does sound reasonable,” Papyrus admitted after a moment. He was so tempted to just cave in and go see Undyne...

But he shook his head, standing just a bit taller.

“... No.”

“No?” Flowey blinked a couple times. He started squirreling away into the ground, an odd look on his features.

“I have to wait for the human,” he squared his shoulders. “I have to.”

“But... why?”

“Because,” Papyrus stared down the road, watching as a slim figure ever so slowly made their way through the light snowfall, the dread settling in his soul a staunch reminder of things to come.

“I promised them _breakfast._”

0-0-0-0-0


	10. Shocking Development

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus was ready for them.

And yet, he couldn't quite shake off the unsettling sensation that his time was dwindling.

Snow fell in light puffs, dancing arrhythmically through the gentle breeze, almost obscuring his vision. He squinted harder and stood his ground, soul pounding furiously in his chest as he quite vividly recalled that awful, ribboning pain that he'd felt so frequently lately. And, sure enough, there in their hand loosely swung a dusty little knife, marked with the lost souls it had previously claimed. Papyrus's throat grew tighter as they approached, but he did his best to shake it off. Even Flowey had burrowed away the moment he noticed the human, leaving him alone to face whatever unpleasantness was coming next.

And to make matters worse, that _smell_ was back.

The scent of a musty basement that had been closed for too long. Old boxes left undiscovered for ages gathering little pieces of time across their tops. Things lost to despair that should have stayed that way.

The smell of _dust._

“Hello again, human friend!” Papyrus made sure to wave slowly and deliberately at them. Frisk did not slow their approach, and neither did they glance up at him as they steadily wound their way over the bridge. They meandered gradually across the snow, powder dancing in tufts around them as they drew ever closer. Papyrus felt a twinge of unease rise up into his chest, his throat clenching tight as he strained to remain as motionless as possible. Until he got a proper look, he would keep his chin high and his hopes up. He didn't want to glance down and see the dusty powder coating their hands, the vacant, empty gaze to their eyes, the cold stare as they cut him down yet again. His soul ached terribly, but he would forge on regardless.

He _needed_ to.

“Hello, hello! Come on through! I brought that spaghetti I promised!” Papyrus made a show of wafting up the scent of his freshly made goods. “Have you tried it yet? Mm-mm, good stuff.”

Frisk did pause eventually, stopping an arm's reach from him. They simply stood and stared as he gripped the plate of spaghetti and held it out to them, a kind but tense smile on his face. He didn't move for the longest time, just waiting and waiting for any kind of response from them, and Frisk was not forthcoming with a reply, a blink, _anything._

And then, finally, at long last, Frisk reached out and tentatively picked up the fork in their free hand. His soul skipped a beat as they swirled around a small mouthful of the breakfast spaghetti, hopeful as ever that they might actually like it.

What he got instead was to watch Frisk immediately dry swallow, shudder visibly for just a moment, and then promptly slap the plate out of his hand. It tumbled face down into the snow, and Papyrus felt his soul drop into his stomach in wretched knots.

“... Wow,” Papyrus said after an uncomfortable stretch of silence. “You know, I think getting stabbed hurt _less_.”

“We can do that instead,” the human gripped the knife in their hand tightly.

“Can you _stop_ with the murder for ten seconds?!” he snapped, earning another surprised look and even a slight backwards step from them. He took a sharp breath and steeled himself. He didn't need to go shouting at them and making it worse, because it certainly wasn't making anything better. His hard work had gone right to waste, and they hadn't even appreciated it in the slightest; he wanted _very much_ to be angry right then, something to distract from how much that had stung, but he shook it off and blew out a sigh through his nostril bone.

“... Okay, so, maybe it was a bad batch,” Papyrus rubbed the back of his head with one hand, craning his neck and staring up at the misty roof of the cave. “I'll make sure to leave out the eggs next time.”

A single snowflake fell downwards, twirling and dancing steadily until it landed between his eye sockets, melting shortly afterwards. He looked back to the human and wiped his face tiredly, pretending that the wetness was only from the snow.

“You... would you like a Cinnamon Bunny instead?” Papyrus reached into the paper bag he'd brought along sitting atop the counter of the sentry station. “I've got some more of these. Plenty today, actually.”

Frisk didn't take a swing at him this time, which he considered deeply for a moment before handing them the treat. They glanced at him like he was going to swipe it away and eat it for himself, and they were quick to snatch it. Unlike the breakfast spaghetti they actually seemed invested in eating this one, scarfing it down with a ravenous hunger that he had been anticipating this time.

“Would you like another?” he reached in and pulled out another, holding it in the palm of his hand for them. “Like I said, I've got a whole bunch here.”

“Golly thanks,” Frisk muttered before snagging this one as well and shoveling it down. He couldn't help but feel his soul swell a little.

“You remembered,” he smiled a bit at that. Frisk just gave him a weird look and their crimson eyes shot back to the bag like a starving animal poking and prodding for sustenance. Although he doubted the cinnamon treats were nutritious, at least it was better than them going hungry. He let out another sigh and pulled out a couple more, munching on one of his own while passing the next to Frisk, who took it without hesitation this time.

“... These are actually pretty good,” he said absentmindedly as he finished his off, Frisk not bothering to respond in favor of chewing violently and holding out their hands for another, which Papyrus was quick to remedy. “A little too much for my tastes, but I'll try to remember that you're preferential to

sweets.”

“Golly thanks,” they repeated and wiped their hands on their striped shirt, and Papyrus cringed. He'd have to remember napkins after the next time he died. That particularly uncomfortable thought was getting a little too familiar.

“I get these from a shopkeeper down in Snowdin,” Papyrus said conversationally, leaning back against the sentry station with his arms loosely folded in front of them, just watching as they helped themself to more, rustling the bag. “Very nice woman. You'd like her.”  
“Would I,” Frisk responded through bites, giving him another odd look.

“I could introduce you, if you'd like!” he perked up a bit. It seemed that Frisk had filled up on the treats, no longer interested in the mostly empty bag, instead staring up at him. “I think that you would like her, she's lovely.”

“Uh huh,” they muttered, twirling the pocket knife through their fingers distractedly. “Maybe I'll pay her a visit next.”

Papyrus _really_ didn't like the intonation behind their statement.

“So,” he clapped his hands together loudly, desperately hoping to deter them from what he hoped wasn't a seriously unpleasant line of thought. “It seems you don't care much for crosswords _or_ jumbles, but worry not, human!” he pressed a hand to his chest, letting his scarf blow out in the breeze behind him. “I've got plenty of perilous puzzles prepared up ahead! We can try out some of those if you'd prefer; so why not come with me instead?”

He held his gloved hand out to them, hoping against hope that the human might possibly try for something better.

But their fingers tightened around the handle of the pocket knife, and Papyrus resisted the urge to let out a sigh. So he braced himself internally, put on a wider smile, and tiredly faced the end.

0-0-0-0-0

And they took his hand.

Papyrus blinked in disbelief, his grin growing exponentially. Frisk just stared up at him unblinkingly, waiting.

“Okay,” Frisk stated plainly. “Let's have fun.”

“R-really?” he shouted, causing them to flinch. He cleared his throat and tried to minimize the amount of noise he was making, pretty sure some of his bones were clacking from the tension. He let out a short, unwilling little laugh, running his free hand over the top of his skull. “W-wowee, um, okay – I mean, yes; yes, okay!” Papyrus perked up considerably. “What are we waiting around for? Let's get moving, human friend!”

Frisk just nodded and trailed along beside him, their short strides harder to adjust to than he had anticipated. He tried to slow his pace to accommodate them, wondering once again if his brother took his 'shortcuts' because it took so long to walk there. Of course, maybe it was just from his perspective, with his gangly long legs. He tried not to be as self conscious about it.

Of course, those thoughts were replaced by the one firmly reminding him that he was holding their _very_ dusty hand, and a shudder ran down his spine. That one was a bit harder to ignore.

“Okay!” he released their grip and resisted the quite frankly itching urge to wipe his hands. He planted his fists on his hips, grinning eagerly down to them as they looked out over the small clearing. Frisk started off towards the machine that had been left there, but he put a hand out in front of them to halt them. They just glared up at him, almost uncertainly by their expression. It was hard to read them.

“Nyeh heh heh heh! This,” jubilantly throwing his arm out before them, “is the _invisible electricity maze!_” Papyrus straightened up a bit more with pride. “Unforeseen ultimatums, daring dead ends, shocking surprises – you're in store for all that and much more!” he dug in his battle body for the orb magically connected to the puzzle. Simple, but it would surely confound them. “Go ahead, human friend, try it out! I'm sure you'll find it a delight!”

He was then _jolted_ painfully, almost dropping the orb in the process. His vision blurred and he had to gasp for breath, trying vainly to recall where he had gone wrong.

“... Oh,” he blinked a couple of times, noting the peculiar expression on Frisk's face. “Actually, I think that you're supposed to hold the orb, why don't-”

Papyrus was cut off when he was shocked again, his bones snapping together and clacking all at once, his jaw wired shut from the awful sensation. It happened again and again as Frisk stomped on one patch of the maze, each connection giving him a jagged spasm of pain, unable to even release the orb from how frequent they were causing him to jitter uncontrollably from the shocks. And then again, and again, and _again, _it felt like there would be no end to the agony, vicious bolts of electricity creeping up his arm and it wouldn't stop, it was difficult to even remain conscious, let alone breathing. Eventually, after he'd long since lost count of how many times it had happened, Papyrus coughed violently, spewing out a stream of steam through his nostril bone. He wasn't certain when he'd fallen sideways into the snow, struggling as he was to sit on his knees.

“You're right,” Frisk said smugly. “I am having fun.”

“Well,” he wheezed weakly. “At least one of us is.”

He wasn't certain where the orb had fallen, and at this point, he didn't really care. He definitely wasn't in the mood for this particular puzzle any longer.

_Gee. Wonder why._

“Let's just move on,” Papyrus said dryly as he stood on weak legs. Frisk only gave him a single nod and stood before him, waiting.

“... Well?” Frisk asked at last.

“... Well, what?”

“Aren't you going to shout at me?” Frisk didn't so much as blink. “I hurt you. Why haven't you hit me yet?”

“I – that's not – I'm not going to _hit_ you!” he sputtered in alarm. “Why would you say something like that?”

“It's just how it is,” they replied quietly. “Don't you know anything about how this world works?”

“... Listen,” he sighed wearily and knelt down before them, putting all his weight on one knee. “Yes, that was uncalled for and I'm pretty angry. But... just because someone does something bad doesn't mean that you should do the same back, or even that they're a bad person. It's alright little one. I forgive you.”

“... I don't want to play this game anymore,” Frisk said sullenly, refusing to meet his gaze, instead staring away at the ground to the side of them. 

It was silent for a while, and Papyrus worriedly stood up straight. What kind of life must this poor little one must have had to fall into the Underground with such a mindset? But it wasn't like he could just  _ask_ them something like that. Could he? There were so many questions he wanted to ask, that he needed to ask. Still so much he didn't know.

“So...” he rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. “It's kinda awkward now. Would you like to try some of the other puzzles, human Frisk?”

“No,” Frisk sulked, still refusing to look at him. They clung to their pocket knife needfully, gripping it so tightly that their knuckles were beginning to turn white. 

“Are you sure?”

They didn't respond at all. Papyrus only let out a breath, braced himself, and held out his hand.

They walked in silence all the way home.

0-0-0-0-0


	11. Dilemma

0-0-0-0-0

Getting home wasn't really too much of a problem.

Bringing the human, however, was a different matter.

“You don't want to be left out in the cold, do you?” Papyrus asked as they stopped once again, reaching for something he couldn't see in the snow. He felt a rush of deja vu as they did so, an odd ringing in his head only a momentary annoyance before they straightened up and dusted themself off. Snow clumped around them as they shifted in the knee deep cold, tucking their hands under their arms for warmth.

Then they took a few more steps, repeated the same process of worriedly glancing over their shoulder back down the road leading to the ruins, and knelt down into the snow again. It was perplexing, to say the least.

“You aren't going to leave me behind,” Frisk stated with confidence. Again came that little flare of annoyance, stronger this time; partially because he knew they were right. They were so close to Snowdin now, too, and it felt like they were deliberately dragging their feet, despite the fact that they were obviously freezing.

“So why...” he murmured out loud, causing them to blink and look up at him.

“... What?” Frisk glowered at him, dusty pocket knife beginning to swing a little in their opposite hand.

“Aren't you cold, little one?”

“Duh,” Frisk threw out their arm around them. “It's snowing.”

“So then why do you keep looking for those little yellow things?”

Frisk _froze_ suddenly, giving him an uneasy, worried look, before wiping their face of all emotion.

“... I don't know what you're talking about. Let's just get moving,” it was painfully blatant that they were lying, he _knew _he'd seen those weird things popping up; yet another mystery to unravel. They seemed to disappear as soon as he'd noticed them, and the fact Frisk was recently much more eager to stop talking about them only made his curiosity grow. But instead he sighed, readjusted his scarf, and held out his hand to them. Frisk took his phalanges into their hand and gave a short little squeeze, not looking up at him. So he shook his head, tucked away his questions, and resumed their march toward Snowdin.

He thought momentarily about stopping in at Bunni's shop as the scent of warm cinnamon and sugar reached him. The scent of kindness and comfort, such a homely place. He took in a slow breath and felt a smile creeping up his face, the intense urge just to talk to her again surprising even himself. He shook himself off and reminded himself of his mission, a bit sad that he wouldn't get to talk to her just yet. He missed her vibrant smile.

_Maybe tomorrow._

“Morning Barry,” Papyrus waved halfheartedly to the distracted monster hanging around the library. He blinked and looked up at Papyrus over the edge of his paper, looked at Frisk, then immediately went back to his paper, taking a steady sip of his coffee. Papyrus shrugged internally, continuing along his way with Frisk in tow. The rest of the walk home was thankfully devoid of conflict. Papyrus let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and opened the front door for them. Frisk just pushed ahead without so much as a thank you or even acknowledgment, and there came that flash of frustration again, which was promptly stuffed underneath his mental cabinet for later filing when he had the time. Odd, he found it, despite the fact that he could have had all the time in the world and it still wasn't enough. Almost funny. Which in hindsight, was kind of insane. He wanted so badly to help them, to help _everyone_, and how could he do that if he couldn't even keep his own mind in order?

It then occurred to him that Frisk had just been standing in front of him waiting as he was still holding the front door open, just mulling things over in silence. He cleared his throat awkwardly and shut the door, running a hand over his face and letting out a tired sigh.

“... Okay,” Papyrus prepared himself as his brother emerged from the kitchen. “Oh! Sans! This is-” he started to gesture to the human before his brother blurted out a single _nope_ and vanished into the kitchen. He was gone when Papyrus glanced around the corner, and he ground his teeth in frustration. Of course his brother would be terrified of a human, he technically hadn't even introduced the two yet. It was all his own fault, really, he should have been more perceptive to his poor brother; maybe a nice batch of friendship spaghetti would smooth things over between them.

“I'm getting bored,” Frisk twirled their pocket knife deftly through their fingers, and Papyrus felt that unpleasant chill creeping over the ridges in his spine.

“Are you still cold little one?” Papyrus asked as he set about making a fresh batch of spaghetti. Frisk just gave him a strange look and shrugged once, not meeting his gaze.

“I'll take that as a yes,” he carefully began boiling water and noodles. “There's a linen closet in the bathroom under the stairs,” Papyrus gestured out for them, and they followed his point. “Why don't you grab some blankets and warm up a bit while I make us some lunch, human Frisk?”

“Yeah, whatever asshole,” Frisk muttered as they shuffled away. Papyrus sighed again and began to add spaghetti sauce and some signature magic to the mix, an uncharacteristically potent frown beginning to form on his features. He was letting them into his home, making them food, trying his darndest to make them feel welcome, did they really have to show such lack of gratitude? Maybe he just wasn't trying hard enough. His frown deepened.

It took him a moment to realize just how viciously he'd been stirring the spaghetti. More akin to half beaten, really, but it was still sturdy enough to eat. At least he hadn't accidentally made spaghetti soup again, that one hadn't turned out too well at all. Papyrus's mind was abuzz with questions, and he shook his head a couple times and began to set plates. He made sure to set aside some for Sans too, though with how upset he'd looked upon seeing the human, he likely wouldn't be eating lunch with them. From the sound of circular pacing upstairs, he might not even be out for the rest of the afternoon. Papyrus grabbed a couple forks and set them as well. It was difficult not to think too hard on his dilemma, whether or not he should inform Undyne of the human. He wanted very much to, she would be so  _proud_ of him, he just knew it. But she did tend to react rather...  _passionately_ when the safety of the Underground was involved, the human might get hurt in her frenzy. He tried hard not to worry about his brother, though he wasn't very successful at it. Frisk hadn't made so much as a peep since; they had dust of monsters on their hands, were armed with a knife, and the nervousness came back in full blown panic as he bolted out of the kitchen, head whipping back and forth-

Frisk was sound asleep on the couch, curled up in a little ball underneath one of their spare checkered blankets. He let out a weary but relieved sigh through his nostril bone, clutching a hand to his chest. Stars, his soul was  _pounding_ , now was  _not_ the time to have an episode. Papyrus started to wake them, but held his tongue. Maybe the best thing for him to do was allow them time to rest. They did look awfully tired walking all the way home.

_Maybe they're getting tired of murder, hopefully._

Papyrus silently crept into the kitchen, picked up the plate, and brought it back on tiptoes. He set it next to them on the floor, Frisk not even stirring as he slipped away back into the kitchen. He let out a quiet breath that he hadn't noticed he'd been holding, finally sitting down at his own seat and staring down at the spaghetti. He couldn't stop thinking about how they'd behaved that morning, from their words to their actions to their constant near starvation. Had human Frisk been through something bad on the surface to make them behave like that? Was it a natural reaction of a human, was he reading too much into it?

The memory of Frisk's absolutely  _disgusted_ expression at the taste of his cooking came rushing right back, and all of a sudden, Papyrus wasn't really all that hungry anymore. He sighed and put his own helping away in the refrigerator next to his brother's, that unpleasant feeling frown returning. He wound up running his hands over his head, unable to still his myriad of bouncing thoughts that all demanded immediate attention. He tried not to be bothered by it, he really put effort into it, but it bothered him on a personal level. Was his cooking really that terrible that it warranted that kind of reaction? He didn't  _think_ so; he'd been trained by the best chef he'd ever met, too! Undyne knew practically everything about making spaghetti. Flowey's suggestion wandered into his thoughts; maybe he should pay her a visit when he had the chance. It was probably his own fault for not paying close enough attention to the details of her training, that must have been it. 

He wordlessly shut off the lights and meandered up the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky step for fear of waking the little one. He started to knock on his brother's door, but pulled away at the last moment. No, he wouldn't drag him into his problems. He'd already made that promise to himself. Sans was trying to get through his own personal difficulties, it wasn't right to force that onto him at all, he didn't think he'd ever be able to live with himself if he put that kind of weight on his brother's shoulders.

So, he wound up stealthily slipping into his own room, desperately wishing that his soul would stop that terrible aching.

Papyrus sat down at the computer, signing into the Undernet and pulling his creaky wooden chair in just a bit closer.

_CoolSkeleton95 has logged on._

He typed hard for a few seconds, thinking back hard. After a few moments, he heard the telltale dinging of a message.

_Alphys: hey what's up_

Sent:  _I'm having this little problem._

Sent:_ You're an expert on humans, right?_

_Alphys: no_

_Alphys: well_

_Alphys: I mean_

“And 'why do you ask' in three, two...” he counted patiently.

_Alphys: why do you ask?_

A sudden, very uncomfortable spark of deja vu hit him then, like a powerful sort of vertigo, and he had to cling to his chair and desk to keep from falling. His soul was pounding in his chest, a rigid headache beginning to form for some reason. He rubbed his temples and tried to focus instead on typing.

Sent: _A human came out of the Ruins today. They're in my house._

_Alphys: lol CoolSkeleton95 that's a joke right_

There was a momentary pause before another message appeared. An idea began to form, and he rolled his tongue between his teeth as he thought his next words over carefully.

_Alphys: oh my god I see them on the camera footage you weren't kidding this is huge_

_Alphys: you actually caught a human??_

Sent: _Caught is a loose term, but yes. They're sleeping on my couch right now._

_Alphys: omg omg omg omg_

Sent: _I want you to think of an unguessable number, then write it down on a piece of paper_

_Alphys: ok??_

Sent: _Now, what was that number?_

_Alphys: 02022020_

_Alphys: but y tho_

Sent: _I'll tell you that part tomorrow._

_Alphys: what does that have to do with a human??_

Sent: _Like I said, I'll elaborate tomorrow on that. Right now, I need your assistance with something different._

_Alphys: so how can I help? :3_

Sent: _Would you happen to know much about psychology?_

_Alphys: lol I mean I do have a degree in robotics but yea y do u ask_

Sent: _I think that the human might have a couple problems._

It was more like a couple murders, but he decided to leave that part out.

_Alphys: like what?_

Sent: _What might cause a person to lash out at someone trying to help them?_

It was silent for almost a full minute.

_Alphys: have you ever heard of the hedgehog's dilemma?_

0-0-0-0-0


	12. Another Stranger Me

0-0-0-0-0

Just a simple check mark on the calendar, and still it mocked him.

Papyrus sat on floor next to his bed, head in his hands. He closed his eye sockets and sighed, rubbing his temples. The chat with the good doctor Alphys hadn't gone quite as he'd anticipated. Oh well. He promised himself to do better next time. Papyrus ran his hands over his face, letting out another tired, slow, steady breath through his teeth. He had so much to think over that it was beginning to make his head hurt. A short tap as something softly smacked his window caused him to blink, but when he glanced up nothing was there.

“Going crazy,” he muttered aloud, giving himself a little shake. He couldn't go losing it now, he needed to stay focused if he wanted to solve this time looping dilemma. After all, he was starting to lose track of how many replays he'd already been through. Would it help to keep a journal? He'd started to drift in his stream of consciousness, just letting his mind wander as he pondered his predicament. The human _must_ have known more than they were letting on. It felt like the more he discovered, the more questions he had, sometimes even more than before. It was positively maddening. He wanted to talk to the human Frisk about some things – a lot of things, actually. He had more questions than he did answers, and he _knew_ that they knew something that they just weren't letting on about. He _wasn't_ mad.

Those little yellow sparks he'd been seeing lately came to the forefront of his mind. He leaned back against the sturdy wooden frame of his bed, closing his eye sockets more tightly as he tried to recall just how many times he'd seen them. He couldn't quite count, but it was at least five or six just today. The stranger thing about them was when he tried to get a better look, the gleam of their existence vanished entirely; he would have chocked it up to visual delusions if Frisk hadn't behaved so strangely when he'd brought them up. They bold faced lied to him about them, when he _knew_ he saw them interacting with those glistering things. But that nasty little voice in the back of his head came right back.

Maybe he was just overreacting. Perhaps it was all in his head.

His skull _thunked_ again against the wooden bed frame, and he let out a miserable groan. He _wasn't _crazy, right? There must have been another reason. He had to keep reminding himself, even though he didn't want to, that there was always a chance he was hallucinating and projecting his multiple problems onto those around him. And he _wouldn't_ make anyone else carry his issues. He was a big bones, he could handle this.

“I just have to figure out _how,”_ Papyrus let out his umpteenth sigh. He heard that soft _tick_ of something tapping against his window and glanced up, seeing nothing again. A bit nervously, he pulled himself upwards and drifted over to the window just in time to see another pebble bounce off the glass. His brows furrowed, Papyrus leaned into the window, finally spotting the small yellow flower in his back yard smiling at him before vanishing into the snowy earth. It brought him a small bit of jubilation to know that he wasn't just hearing things. He slipped out of his room and peered over the balcony, spotting the human still slumbering peacefully on the couch under their blanket, spaghetti plate surprisingly empty. Though whether they had eaten it or simply thrown it away, he wasn't entirely sure, but he would have liked to pretend they actually liked it. That in itself would be strange enough.

He carefully crept out the front door, making sure to softly latch the front door behind him. He didn't see anyone else around for almost half a minute as he stood out in the snow, and was half tempted to go back inside before he heard a quiet _er-hem_ from between his feet. He jumped with a start and clutched a gloved hand to his chest, breathing rapid.

“Howdy!”

“Goodness, little friend!” Papyrus stepped away from the house a bit more, worried about waking anyone. “You really have to be more careful, I almost stepped on you!”

“You'd be surprised at how often I hear that,” Flowey said with a wink. “How's it going, Papyrus?”

“I have been having the _weirdest_ day,” he rubbed his temples with a quiet groan.

“You don't say,” Flowey said distractedly as he inspected a vine that quickly returned to the ground. “Say, Papyrus. You've been acting awfully strange since you met that human, you know?”

“Oh, Flowey...” Papyrus sighed as he knelt down into the snow and lowered his voice. “You would not believe me if I told you how crazy it's been.”

“Try me,” Flowey stated calmly.

“It's just-” he started uncertainly, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head. “I mean, I've talked to you about it before! It's just... it was a different _today_, you know?”

“Golly, Papyrus, I'm not sure what you're talking about,” Flowey tilted innocently. “That nasty human didn't _hurt_ you or something, did it?”

“Not today,” Papyrus ran a hand down his face before shaking his head.

“So all those electric shocks from the maze didn't hurt you at _all,_ huh?”

So, he'd seen that, too.

Flowey always did seem to have a strange way of knowing things.

“... Okay, well, _yes_ that hurt,” Papyrus admitted at last, feeling like garbage for even having the impulse to lie about it and act tough when he knew for a fact he wasn't. The look Flowey was giving him like he _knew_ only made it worse. “But-but that's okay! I'm fine, you don't have to worry about me, little friend.”

“Oh, but I _do_ worry, Papyrus!” Flowey bounced a bit. “Golly, I'm kinda _scared_ for you, you know?”

“... No?”

“Because you _do_ have a _murderer_ in your house, Papyrus...” Flowey whispered conspiratorially, causing the skeleton to lean in to hear him. “You saw the dust on them too, right?”

“They... they must have just been scared, or-or something,” he fidgeted uncomfortably. “Why else would they attack someone?”

“Can you even hear yourself right now?” Flowey's eyes widened with his smile. “Making them breakfast after what they've done? Goodness me, that sounds like something an insane person would say. Are you _sure_ you aren't losing it, Papyrus-?”

“I'm not, I'm _not_ crazy!” he blurted before withdrawing suddenly, realizing just how much noise he was making. He cleared his throat abashedly before turning back to the little flower, the insecurities practically boiling over in his soul that he desperately hoped nobody would notice. But as always, Flowey just seemed to _know._

“Listen to me, Papyrus,” Flowey said calmly. “Even if nobody else will, _I_ believe you.”

“I... thank you,” he started to choke up a bit, his head buzzing with that weird deja vu feeling again.

“And your old pal Flowey would _never_ give up on his best _friend_. So why don't you tell me what's _really_ bothering you, huh Papyrus?”

Papyrus rubbed his face in exhaustion, trying not to let the weariness show.

“I'm just...” he started carefully. “I'm so _tired_, Flowey. Would you believe me if I told you that I've been reliving the exact same day, over and over again?”

“Oh, my!” Flowey's eyes widened in surprise. He fell into a thoughtful expression, rubbing the bottom of his face with the tip of a vine. “Goodness, that certainly does sound a bit strange. Any idea how that might be happening?”

“I have some theories,” Papyrus was hit with such a rush of relief that he wanted to cry. He was almost positive that Flowey would have dismissed him or laughed, he should have known better than to distrust such a good friend. “I think it might have something to do with the human, actually! You see, I'm not the only one to remember that this day seems to keep happening – they remember, too!”

“You don't say,” he tilted upwards. “Gosh, I wish I had a cool ability like that. Must be _fun_, huh?”

“What do you mean?” Papyrus stared.

“Well, haven't you had _any_ fun since this weirdness has started?” Flowey stared. “Let's say that this day just keeps happening – _resetting_, if you will – then why not cut loose a little, huh?”

“I can't do that!” he insisted.

“Why not?”

“Because-”

Papyrus started to speak before biting his tongue, uncertainty creeping back up his spine. After all, maybe Flowey did have a point. He'd been so focused on catching the human lately that he hardly gave himself time for anything else; but it was catching the human that was most important, right?

But what was the point of capturing them to be promoted to the head of the royal guard if he couldn't actually get through a single day? That awful ribboning pain in his soul started to flare back up and he rubbed his chest distractedly, taking a moment to focus before turning back to the patient little flower monster.

“I just _can't_, Flowey,” he explained tiredly. “I have to figure this all out, I'm... I'm just not sure _how_.”

“M-hmm, I see, I see...” the flower nodded a couple of times pensively. “You must be really upset by all this, huh?”

“Oh my _god_ yes,” Papyrus pinched the bridge of his nostril bone momentarily. “I just wish that I had someone to talk to about this-”

“Well, that's why you have me, silly! Tee hee,” he interrupted. “I mean, it's not like anyone _else _is going to help you like I can. Whatever is the matter, Papyrus? Is your old pal Flowey just not _good_ enough for you anymore?”

“No no! That's not-”

“Oh, I'm just _teasing,_” Flowey tittered. “The look on your face, so worth it. But,” he lowered his tone, causing Papyrus to lean in a bit more, almost falling over from the effort. “You _do_ realize that you can't tell _anyone_, right?”

Papyrus ran a gloved hand over his head, the discomfort returning.

“... But why?”

“Silly Papyrus,” the flower smiled. “Don't you know anything about how this world works? There are people out there that would _kill_ to have what you have, don't you understand?”

“No,” he crossed his arms with a frown. “I would very much like to just get through to _tomorrow_, why would anybody want to be in my boots right now?”

“Think about it,” Flowey stated. “Everyone else has to live their lives. Boring, short, mediocre and predictable lives. But you?” his smile widened. “Now, you get to take a step back and see the _bigger picture_. You, of all people, get what few others _ever_ get, Papyrus. A second _chance_.”

“But-”  
“And not just doing the same thing over and over again,” he added promptly. “That's just _crazy_. But you? You can say whatever you want to people! You can do anything you want, and there's _no consequences_. So why are you wasting your opportunities, Papyrus? The world is your oyster!”

“Absolutely not!” Papyrus scoffed hard. “No way! The Great Papyrus would never-”

“Would never _what?”_ Flowey's sharp canines showed through his smile. “Take advantage of the one thing that could elevate you forever into the realm of gods? Think about it, Papyrus. You aren't just stuck in a loop like everyone else – you, out of everyone else in the world, get to choose, to make your _own_ destiny.”

“I... I hadn't thought of it that way,” he admitted at last.

“Don't you worry your pretty little skull about it, Papyrus,” he felt the light tap of a vine a couple of times against his head that was gone when he glanced around. Papyrus felt something creep onto his back. “I can do plenty of thinking for the both of us. You can _always_ count on me.”

“... I'll have to think it over,” Papyrus sighed through his teeth and rubbed the back of his head, standing and stretching his aching legs.

“You do that, Papyrus,” Flowey beamed up at him. “Golly, if anyone can do it, I know you can!”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, Flowey. It means a lot to me.”

“I know, Papyrus...” his smile dipped a bit. “But you know...”

Flowey's voice lowered to such a soft whisper that he could barely be heard at all, Papyrus drawn in by both the intent to hear him and the sudden realization that vines were wrapped around his chest that he hadn't even noticed before.

“It's time to wake up, Papyrus.”

“... What?” Papyrus breathed – or at least tried to, it was much harder to breathe at all for some reason.

“It's time to wake up, Papyrus,” Flowey repeated with that empty little smile.

“I-I don't understand!” he choked, tasting dust and copper and something _foul. _The frantic worry and panic was almost blinding as he heard something smashing through the house, unable to even turn away from Flowey from how tightly the vines were constricting him, painfully drawing him in so that they were face to face, the little monster more serious than he had ever seen him.

“Wake. _Up_.”

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus _bolted_ out of bed, sweating profusely and gasping for breath. His chest was tight and that horrid ribbon of agony was shooting right through his soul, the intense deja vu and vertigo hitting him all at once. He had to crawl from how badly he was affected, his head pounding furiously as he made it to the waste bin next to his computer and promptly vomited into it. He retched and trembled violently for several minutes, bright spots dancing across his vision for several minutes before he could finally calm down a bit. Wiping his brow with the crook of his arm it came away damp with sweat, it took him a moment to wonder why he was in pajamas.

Then he glanced over and spotted the date.

Papyrus let out a pitiful whine and dragged himself over to the wall to prop his weak self up against the wood, his breathing still heavy and labored.

Tuesday.

Of course.

Of _course_.

What had happened yesterday? Today? Would happen? It was too much to contemplate, all the weighty thoughts on his mind too much to focus on when he could barely keep himself upright. He slapped himself a couple of times, forcing himself to focus. But he could still almost _see_ Flowey's face in front of him, telling him to wake up. He desperately wished that it wasn't all just some vivid hallucination or dream, just as part of him really hoped that it was. Just trying to know himself was like trying to know a stranger; and he was certainly feeling stranger by the day. And he felt terrible for being so torn apart by it. It felt as though his very soul would crack from the pressure, and he resisted the urge to be sick again. So he did his best to pull himself together, shakily stood on clacking legs, checked off the date and began to go about finally getting some answers.

0-0-0-0-0


	13. Playing By The Rules

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus didn't bother to even look at the alarm clock as it went off.

Even the little clockwork device was making fun of him. It rang and rang and rang, but he just didn't care. Papyrus did his best to recall exactly _what_ had just happened, his mind a whirling mess of thoughts. Flowey had been in deep conversation with him, he knew that. His little flower friend had pulled him in close, something loud happened in the house, and then...

Why did the world replay? What was the point?

Was it because the human got bored again? Papyrus frowned, rubbing his aching head. For some reason it was difficult to focus, and the alarm clock wasn't helping. He fumbled around and shut it off, swinging his gangly legs off the edge of the bed and holding his head in his hands. Frisk must have done something while he was busy with his conversation with his friend, the human had made an awful lot of noise, even if he wasn't certain why. And immediately after, the stream of time replayed. Or, how had Flowey put it?

_Reset._

That seemed a bit more accurate, he had to admit to himself as he dressed. He couldn't shake off that tightness in his chest, desperately hoping that it hadn't been some dream. But maybe it was an illusion, and he was really going mad. He hoped not. But sane or not, he _had_ to catch a human. He was certain of just how important it was, and he had to forcibly remind himself of that as he dressed, his aching head still pounding with a dull, constant pain. The human was _connected_ to the resets, somehow. Maybe somewhat like he was. He wondered if it left them just as disoriented as it did him. He felt for them, it wasn't very fun. But on that note, Flowey had some very strange advice about 'fun' in general. He mused over it as he slipped on his boots and gloves.

Despite being in apparent perfect health, it was getting harder and harder to force himself out of bed. Papyrus groaned and shoved himself upwards, still feeling a bit woozy after that last reset. He dressed as quickly and efficiently as he could, powering up the computer and beginning to type before pausing, his mind still a jumble of questions.

_Have you ever heard of the hedgehog's dilemma?_

He mused over his conversation with doctor Alphys in the previous timeline, bony brows furrowing.

_It's a psychological phenomenon in which the subject, or the hedgehog, attempt to get close to another for warmth, but wind up pricking each other due to their quills. The subject most frequently feels as if they cannot grow close to another without fear of harming them somehow._

Papyrus's finger bones tapped against the keys uselessly for almost five minutes before he changed his mind, shutting the computer off and silently making his way out of his room. He started to knock on his brother's door before flinching. There was so much he had to handle, so many _questions_ and not enough answers, solutions that he was beginning to grow desperate for.

But no matter how heavy the burden, no matter how much it hurt, he refused to allow that kind of pain to be passed on to his brother. His health was already pitifully low, and even though he knew that Sans was smarter than him he couldn't make him deal with his issues. So he shook his head, wrote a little note explaining that he would be out for the day and silently slipped downstairs. He sighed as he made himself a pot of coffee, tired, aching bones begging for sleep. It tasted terrible, but at least it was something. He added in a bit of sugar from their dwindling stores in the pantry, which improved the foul concoction from stomach churning to merely nauseating. He poured himself another cup when he was done with his first, experimenting this time with how much sugar was needed, and accidentally made it far too sweet. His bones were already beginning to jitter and he regretted it immediately, pouring the rest in the sink and stealthily slipping out the front door, taking in a long, steady breath of the chill snowy air, readjusting his scarf as he did so. He could have _sworn_ that he saw something yellow in the snow not far away, and just like before, it was gone the moment he tried to get a better look at it. He would have thought that he was going crazy if not for the human's reaction to his previous questions. And he certainly had plenty more.

“Morning, Barry,” Papyrus waved tiredly to the bear monster hanging around outside the library, sipping from his steaming cup and holding the newspaper up with his other hand. The monster grunted and returned to his paper, and Papyrus resisted the urge to scowl. The very least he could do was say good morning back, it wasn't like it was hard. The monster's words from a previous time were recalled vividly, and even though Papyrus had walked right through Snowdin with a human in tow not too many people even seemed to recognize them for what they were, Barry included. Papyrus only shook his head and continued walking, unwilling to go back into the same conversation with the bristly monster. He paused for a moment just outside the door to the shop, the scent of warm cinnamon bunnies filling the air and wafting pleasantly in the breeze. He stood there for nearly a full minute fumbling with his gloves before making up his mind and finally deciding to head on in before he lost the nerve to do so at all.

“Good morning!” Papyrus made sure to lower his voice as he entered, yet Bunni still seemed to jump a bit at his entrance. The cheerily swinging bell above the door rang its melodies and Papyrus made sure to put on his best winning smile, standing tall.

“Oh!” she held a hand to her chest, smiling warmly back at him. “Gave me a little start, fella! Come on in outta the cold, darlin'. What can I get for ya today?”

“Well, if whatever your baking tastes half as good as it smells, I'll take a whole batch,” he gave her a wink, surprised that her cheeks actually began to glow a little.

“Well, ain't you the flatterer?” Bunni's lips twitched, her eyes twinkling a bit. “You this charmin' with everybody?”

“Only the cute ones,” he blurted before he had time to actually register what he said, and promptly mentally kicked himself multiple times over. However, instead of making fun of him, she just giggled and hid her smile behind her hand, head tilting lightly to the side, her ears remaining perked.

“Tell ya what, sugar; I just got a fresh batch made, why don't ya take some with ya?”

“I would be delighted to, miss,” his grin grew a little sadder against his will, his soul feeling as though he had just dipped it into grease.

“Aw, shoot, hon. Call me Bunni,” she packed him a small paper bag filled to the brim with the cinnamon treats. “Or, you know, you could just regular call me.”

_Don't blow it don't blow it don't blow it don't blow it-_

“I-I'd be happy to,” his nerve completely left him as he felt his cheeks flood with heat. He wordlessly took the bag from the smiling woman as he thanked her, wondering where he had gone wrong this time.

He was almost halfway out of Snowdin before he actually looked into the bag; and there, lying atop the still steaming cinnamon treats, was a small slip of paper with a phone number written on it. His smile grew wider with disbelief, and he promptly committed it to memory, sticking it into his inner pocket. That hadn't gone exactly as planned or expected, but he might as well take what successes he could.

He was tempted to call her right away, but instead he tapped through his phone with one hand, making sure to keep up his pace. He still had nearly half an hour before the human showed up. The phone rang several times before anyone picked up.

“H-h-hello?”

“Good morning, doctor Alphys?” Papyrus steadied himself mentally as he took long strides toward his sentry station.

“Y-yes?”

“I need you to write down a number for me.”

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus paced outside of his sentry station for the next half an hour, on the phone with the good doctor Alphys almost the entire time. She didn't seem to have any answers to his most perplexing questions, and in fact raised several of her own; he committed to memory that he would have to be more careful in the future with her, he really hadn't expected the nervous breakdown. The poor thing must have been so overworked from her duties as a royal scientist that it was only to be expected. He felt another pang of sympathy for her even though he had long since hung up and simply continued his walk back and forth, his mind a hive of inquisitions.

Papyrus waited as patiently as he could, and still the human did not arrive. He eventually took it upon himself to stride up the path, keeping an eye socket out for anything particularly anomalous, doctor Alphys' words coming to mind. She had seemed rather keen on 'anomalies' after his brief explanation of his predicament, though as to what she meant by that she hadn't been entirely clear on. The only real anomaly he could think of immediately was the human, and they hadn't even shown up yet. So he continued his walk past his brother's sentry station, still carrying the paper bag full of treats under one arm.

He walked all the way down the bridge and the gate that he'd constructed, musing silently that it wasn't really much use since the human was quite a bit smaller than he had previously anticipated. But that didn't make them any less dangerous, they'd already proven that much multiple times. He finally approached the creepy giant door at the edge of the woods, with the ancient flaking paint of the delta rune sprawling across it. He stood there for several minutes waiting, hoping that at any moment now the human would come waltzing right through, but still they did not arrive. He absentmindedly chewed on one of the cinnamon bunnies, having forgone breakfast in order to get there early. Perhaps the human was taking their time? After all, time did seem to be the one thing that he seemed to have plenty of lately. Papyrus let out a breath through his nostril bone and knocked patiently at the door, waiting for someone, anyone to answer.

But nobody came.

He sighed bodily and leaned against the door, letting himself sidle to the ground as he tried to keep the bag of treats out of the snow. He rapped against the door with the back of his hand, but still nobody replied. He guessed he shouldn't have been surprised. With how frequently human Frisk had emerged from the old Ruins with dust on their hands, it shouldn't have been too shocking that anyone on the other side was probably gone by now. It made his stomach ache and his chest twinge painfully, thinking of the poor people trapped in there by whatever force kept the door locked. It occurred to Papyrus that he hadn't really asked human Frisk much of anything about the Ruins that they had emerged from, or the surface world that they initially must have come from. No, instead he was too preoccupied with himself. He tried to distract himself with another cinnamon bunny, but just turning the thing over in his gloved hand was enough to deter even a bite. He sighed again and placed it back in the bag, saving it for the human. After all, they would probably be hungry when they were done with their killing spree, it was only polite that he save the majority of the breakfast for them.

“Howdy!”

Papyrus _bolted_ upright with a jolt, one hand clutching at his chest as he struggled to breathe. It took only a moment to spot the small yellow flower monster smiling up from between his feet.

“Hello, Flowey,” Papyrus let out a relieved breath. “Oh my stars, you startled the soul right out of me; what are you doing here, little friend?”

“Waiting for the human, huh?” Flowey didn't answer his question, instead smiling a bit wider. “Golly, Papyrus, you might be here for a while. They're really going to town in there.”

“You can get into the Ruins?” Papyrus blinked in surprise.

“Well, of course, silly!” Flowey gave one of those rehearsed _tee hee_s and winked. “Not like many other people can burrow through the ground all willy nilly like I can. How do you think I get around so fast?”

“I guess you have a point,” Papyrus shifted uneasily as he stared back up at the door for a moment. “You aren't hurt, are you?”

“Naw,” he answered promptly. “It would take an awful lot to hurt me, Papyrus, you don't have to worry. Now, those poor saps stuck in there?” he raised a vine from the earth and slapped the door. “Guess I'm the only one smart enough to run from the human.”

Papyrus was very uncomfortable with the implications behind that, his soul cringing in sympathy for the monsters stuck in there with a killer.

“Ahh, Papyrus, you're doing it again.”

“Doing what?” he blinked, glancing back down to Flowey.

“You always get that look on your face,” he explained. “Whenever you're overthinking something. You look upset about something.”

“We have to do something,” Papyrus paced, the cinnamon treats long since forgotten in the snow. “There are _people_ in there!”

“Well. There _were._”

Papyrus felt like being sick.

“They'll be here soon,” Flowey continued as if he hadn't just uttered something horrifying. “Gonna kill them as soon as they walk through, huh?”

“Wh- oh my _god _no!” Papyrus blurted.

“Why not?”

“I-I'm sure they can still make the right decision,” he said a bit uncertainly.

“And _you're_ going to help them do so, hmm?”

“I _know_ that everyone can be good person,” Papyrus clenched his fists tightly. “I _know_ it. I can help them turn their life around!”

“That kind of attitude isn't going to help you much when they're walking through your dust,” Flowey stated calmly, watching as the skeleton marched back and forth.

“I can do this,” he said firmly. Flowey only shook his little head, that same smile still plastered on. “I can save them, I _can_.”

“You've got a real messiah complex, you know that?” Flowey tilted a bit to the side. Papyrus seemed not to hear him, only continuing his frantic, worried pacing. “This person, this _human_ – they're not worth saving, don't you get that Papyrus?”

“But-”

“They're a born _killer,_” he continued. “There's nobody left in the Ruins now because of them. I've checked. And now they're coming your way.”

“But-”

“And do you know what's going to happen after they're done with you?” Flowey said in a low, conspiratorial tone. “Why, they're going right on to _Snowdin_, of course. You wouldn't want anyone in your town to be _hurt_ because of them, do you?”

“No, of course not, but-”

“Papyrus,” Flowey explained patiently, and Papyrus realized too late that the vine reaching up from behind him was gently pushing him closer. “Listen to your old friend Flowey. In this world, it's _kill_ or _be killed_. Those are the rules the human is playing by.”

“So I'll change the rules.”

Flowey, for what was possibly the first time, revealed a blatant look of shock.

“What.”

“I'll change the rules,” Papyrus stood tall, shrugging off the vine. “If the human doesn't want to fight fair, then I'll have to _make_ it fair.”

Flowey only stared.

And stared.

And stared.

And then, after what felt like ages, at long last, he just started laughing.

“... What's so funny?” Papyrus blinked again.

“You are always so full of surprises,” Flowey wiped an eye with the tip of a vine. “You really are my favorite, Papyrus.”

“You're my favorite too, Flowey,” Papyrus patted him on the head, earning a brief disgruntled look from him. “You should probably get somewhere safe.”

“I'll do that,” he responded with a chirrup. “But what about you, Papyrus?”

“I'm going to stay here.”

“Still waiting on that human, huh?”

“Wait?” Papyrus scoffed as he summoned a thick bone in one hand, crackling magic running up his arm. “Oh, no. Not at all.”

The ancient door standing tall before him was thick, heavy – he could feel the resistance it bore to magic without even touching it, powerful and weighty even throughout the time it had stood.

The wall around the door, however, was ordinary stone, and blasted apart with the myriad of exploding bones Papyrus hurtled at it, displaying a dark corridor beyond dappled with the early morning light through the hole he had created. Determination crackled up his spine and his fists clenched tightly in preparation. Flowey only balked at him in disbelief, his grin slowly growing wider as Papyrus steadied himself for whatever lay lurking in the dark.

“I told you. I'm_ changing the rules.”_

0-0-0-0-0


	14. Before The Storm

0-0-0-0-0

The corridor was dark, a little damp from the icy blowing in through the hole in the wall.

There was that scent again_._

Thick.

Heavy.

Cloying.

If Papyrus had hair, it would be standing on end. He shivered and pretended that it was only from the cold wind blowing gently in behind him. He turned and glanced around for a moment, but Flowey was long gone. He couldn't necessarily blame him. He was already missing his little friend, all of a sudden he really didn't want to be in this dark place alone. But that's what heroes did, right? They went charging right in without so much as second guessing themselves. Though it felt Papyrus was having plenty of second thoughts about his recent choices. But he couldn't stop now, not when he was so close to getting some real answers.

“Hello?” his voice sounded meek and frail in the dark corridor, and he pulled out his phone and used the screen as a source of weak light. The massive door looked identical to its opposite side, aside from a few exceptions. There were multiple scratch or claw marks over the stone door, as if someone (or something) had been trying to get out; a quick scan of the area revealed a number of burn marks as well, scorched stone and torn, singed earth alike displaying what must have been some kind of battle here. Papyrus took a couple steps curiously down the corridor, his bone brows furrowing a bit as he used the phone to inspect whatever was causing resistance against his next step.

He was standing in dust.

Papyrus jolted hard away from the site, horrified and tense, resisting the urge to retch. His chest tightened in coils and he found it difficult to breathe, his hand over his mouth as he tried to fight back the tide of sick threatening to overtake him. But he'd already decided. He made his bed, now he had to lie in it. He said a quick and silent prayer for the poor soul lost to this place, trying not to think about how it was a very real possibility that the human might well have cut someone down here.

But then, if there was dust, where was the human?

Papyrus put his phone away and hugged the bag of cinnamon treats a bit closer to his chest, once again faced with more questions than answers. If the human had indeed come this way and caused... _this_, then why did they not proceed through the door? Had they doubled back for some reason? Did they fight here for some reason? And if so, why? It certainly looked as though a fierce battle had taken place here, from the ripped soil and cracked stone, like something had torn right through the earth beneath him. By the time his eye sockets had adjusted to the darkness he was already halfway down the corridor, coming to a sharp corner.

“Hello?” he repeated a bit more loudly, the only answer awaiting was deafening silence. It made his head ring a little. There again was that strange deja vu feeling again, and it wasn't easily brushed off. The feeling of something extremely dangerous waiting just outside of his field of vision, something that he should _know_ about, something he should be running from. But despite how it made his bones clack and shudder, he only gripped his bag a little tighter and forced himself onward. It was cold down here, he couldn't even see the light from the hole he'd punched in the wall anymore as he rounded the corner, though he did finally see another light down the stone hall, looking to be drifting down from a flight of stairs. Curiously but cautiously he made his way forward, testing out the stone steps and making sure that he didn't make the same mistake of stepping in some other poor fellow's dust lest he actually be sick on the spot. He almost turned around and would have made his way back to the relative safety of Snowdin's forest were it not for that scent.

Over the smell of ancient air, of thick dust, of cramped spaces and unpleasant things, it drew him onward.

_Cinnamon._

Papyrus glanced down at the cold treats he was carrying, wondering for a moment if he was experiencing some kind of olfactory illusion, but this one was stronger, mingled with something sweet. The wafting scent of comfort, calm. Of home. It made him nostalgic for something, even though he didn't know quite what.

He poked his head up from the top of the stairs and was thoroughly surprised to see what was actually a very pleasant looking home. Simple wallpaper, old but sturdy and well kept wooden floorboards, even a healthy looking flower sticking up from a pot on a mantle. He drew in a deep breath and glanced around more thoroughly, hoping to see someone, but was disappointed.

“Hello?” Papyrus repeated, poking around the banister and making his way to what must have been someone's home. “Erm – the door was open,” he lied lamely, though nobody seemed to hear him. He cautiously looked down another hallway and saw no one, though the other direction seemed to be the way to go, unless his nostril bone was deceiving him, it was apparently where that delightful smell was coming from. He wanted to congratulate whoever was baking such a lovely delight, but the house was still as the stone beneath it, stalwart to his calls, and utterly silent.

A small fire in the fireplace was still crackling with magical embers; whoever lived here couldn't be far. Unless that was the poor soul he had stepped in, and that awful feeling started to creep up the base of his spine and he resisted the urge to wipe off his boots. A set of what looked to be filed down fireplace stokers sat unused in the corner next to a clean bookshelf. Nobody answered his calls here either, and he wound up holding his tongue as he inspected a comfy looking chair sitting beside the fireplace where a book lay open and face down on the floor next to it. He picked it up gingerly between his phalanges and looked it over, a hint of sadness making itself known in his chest for reasons he wasn't entirely certain of.

_72 Uses For Snails._

“... I'm sorry,” he whispered as he placed the book tenderly onto the chair, standing up straight. Nobody seemed to hear that either. He shook his head and continued on to the next room, finding a tidy looking kitchen, and the source of that wonderful smell. A nearly full pie sat on the oven top with a single slice cut out of it. A single touch told him it was still a little warm, and he felt ill again. Whoever lived here – or used to, at least – must have been here not too long ago. A cook, someone like himself, maybe. And preferential to cinnamon and butterscotch, from the looks of it. And now they were gone.

_You were too late._

“I'm sorry,” Papyrus whispered again to nobody, his chest feeling heavy. He doubted that he would glean much more information from inspecting the place more thoroughly, but was still haunted by an almost sick fascination with discovering as much as he could. He felt as though he were walking through a terrible lucid dream. Maybe he could find some clues as to where the human went, or what had caused them to attack monsters. Answers to anything at all.

But there again was that unpleasant little thought in the back of his head, that perhaps he wouldn't be happy with the answers at all. And yet, still he wanted answers, needed them, almost like a craving. He would _get_ some answers, one way or another.

He was determined.

“I'm just going to make myself at home, I hope that's okay,” he called out to no one. He carefully put the pie away in the kitchen's small refrigerator, leaving and spotting another large potted flower on the tabletop. Whoever lived here must have really liked plants, he thought to himself as he noticed a tall standing planter full of oblong water sausages. They looked to be well cared for, and the hint of sadness only grew as he walked the hall. A door was open slightly and he knocked once, poking his head in wordlessly. He covered his mouth and cringed, fighting the urge to wipe his boots off again.

It was a children's room.

Had the human...?

He shook his head and with it the awful thoughts that insisted on making themselves known. The light was off but it was clear someone had been here not too long ago, an empty plate of crumbs sat on the floor next to the bed. He wondered why there were such a large assortment of shoes sitting in the box at the end of the bed, and instead looked around to spot a crayon drawing of a flower hanging from a nail on the wall. He closed the door without even realizing how tense he was, his teeth clenched tight to keep them from clattering. He gave himself a firm shake and forced himself onward. He _needed_ to know. And the entire time, he couldn't seem to shake off the uneasy sensation of being _watched._

The next door was locked firmly with a little handwritten sign hanging on it stating that it was under renovation. He wondered just how many people lived here, gauging the plentiful size of the place. The next door was unlocked and led to a dark bedroom, and he was quick to flick on the light switch though it quickly became apparent that the house was either deserted or recently emptied, and tried not to think about it. A large queen sized bed lay neatly made, and opposite it stood a sturdy wooden writing desk with a single chair. Yet another plant sat plainly in the corner in this room, but his attention was drawn back to the writing desk, where a lone book lay open with a pen tucked between the pages. He inspected it carefully, noting that even the ink was still wet, like the owner would come back at any moment, even though he felt he should know better than that.

_Why did the skeleton want a friend?_

_He was feeling bone-ly._

Papyrus let out a single manic snort and covered his mouth, wondering why he was suddenly much more prone to laughing at such a stupid pun. He chalked it up to coping with the shock of the absolute horror story downstairs, because he certainly didn't feel himself in a very joking mood. He wordlessly closed the book and gave it a single pat, sincerely hoping that whoever liked such terrible jokes would be back soon, healthy and happy. He'd take someone irritated that he was rifling through their house over... well, that. But nobody came.

Papyrus silently made his way out of the room, giving one last look at the bed. The weariness hung from his shoulders like a cloak and it was difficult to push off the urge to simply drop into the bed despite his exhaustion. It looked so comfortable that if he were to sleep here he might never get up. But Papyrus flicked off the light and shut the door, banishing those thoughts as well. His attention was drawn by the flicker of reflected light at the end of the hall, and he took a few moments to look himself over in the mirror. He looked as he supposed he always did, but upon closer checking the revelation was clear. There were slight bags under his eye sockets, his shoulders were stooped, his eternal smile was faded and plastic, even the lights in his eyes seemed dimmer and weaker than normal. In short, he looked downright haggard. He wanted to shake it all off, force himself to resume his normal boisterous confidence, but he just wasn't feeling it. Papyrus tried not to think about the house owner and what they might have seen if they looked in the mirror, how they must have felt right before they...

He only sighed and placed a single longing hand against the mirror, craving to become the mental image that he held in such high standard, and thoroughly unable to muster up the strength to do so.

He couldn't bear to gaze into the mirror any longer.

Papyrus shifted away and straightened his back, forcing his strides to even out as he approached the front door. Even if he wasn't _feeling_ great, he had to at the very least put up the image of doing so. Heroes were confident, competent, capable in every sense, right? But Papyrus knew, deep in his core, no matter how hard he tried to deny it. He wasn't anybody's hero.

_You were too late._

He slipped out the front door to see a bundle of leaves by the front door, and there, just out of his line of sight, he finally spotted something that made his soul leap in his chest.

That odd, gleaming little yellow glimmer. He tried to still his eager breathing and did his absolute best this time not to look directly at it but still glean some kind of information from it. The light shone a little brighter the longer that he stood there on the front steps, almost like it was drawing him forward. He found himself stepping carefully toward it, cautiously, slowly, like it was a spooked animal that would dart away the moment he made a single wrong move. Papyrus's breath caught in his chest as he ever so gradually knelt down beside the shining light, like something brilliant and amazing was hiding just behind the shine, and all he had to do was reach out at grasp it-

Papyrus heard a sharp hiss and his head whipped around so quick that his neck _cracked_, and he tried to glance back at the solitary shine in a panic but it was already gone. He swore silently and stood, letting out a weary sigh. Maybe next time. He looked around for the source of the noise but didn't see anything other than a large, barren tree sitting in the middle of the yard with a field of leaves clumped around it. But the sound must have come from somewhere; he checked behind himself at the closed door, a little hopeful that the homeowner was back, but there was no one there either. He walked as stealthily as he could toward the towering tree, hearing what sounded like a light, crackling sobbing, curiously poking his head around the corner. And, much to his surprise, he actually found someone.

“... Frisk?”

The human _jumped_ at the sound of his voice, the swinging knife only barely dodged as he backstepped instantly. He held up his gloved hands in alarm, his gaze meeting their wet red eyes.

“Take it easy, it's just me,” he tried to stand his ground as the human readjusted their grip on the pocket knife. “It's me, it's Papyrus! Do you remember me, Frisk?”

“... What are you doing here?” they wiped their eyes quickly with the crook of their sleeve, hand on the knife shaking. “You-you shouldn't be here.”

“Are you alright?” he avoided the question as calmly as he could. “I heard you crying, are-are you hurt?”

“Doesn't matter,” Frisk looked away at the ground for a moment, their shoulders slumping ever so slightly. “Nothing matters.”

“That's not true,” he stood his ground even as they clenched the knife tighter.

“How would you know?” they scoffed, still without looking at him, their voice full of venom.

“There are plenty of things that matter,” Papyrus spoke a bit more softly. He noted the dust on their hands and his throat clenched a bit. “Hopes. Dreams. Family. Friends.”

Frisk drew closer with the knife drawn out, dusty blade seeming to cut even the air it drifted through.

“Can I ask you a question, human Frisk?”

“I don't do last requests,” they said through their teeth.

“... Are we friends?”

The knife came up.

Then the knife went down.

They raised the knife again, grip tighter this time, giving him a very strange look. They opened and closed their mouth several times, but nothing came out. They fell silent for the longest time, brows furrowed as they stared at the ground, tears beginning to form in their eyes once more. They wiped their face with the dusty crook of their arm, finally letting out a heavy breath.

“... Did you come all this way just to mock me?” Frisk asked at last.

“You didn't answer my question,” Papyrus said pointedly.

“I thought I told you already,” they stated sullenly, not looking at him at all anymore. “I don't have any friends.”

“Nyeh heh, I'm the Great Papyrus,” he said with confidence. “I'm _everyone's_ friend. We don't _have_ to fight, little one,” Papyrus knelt down a bit in front of them so that they were eye level. “You know that, right?”

Still they did not move, still they did not answer. Papyrus let out a weary, tired sigh, smiling kindly and placing a hand on their shoulder. They were so _small_, was this really the cold blooded killer that Flowey had warned him of? Were they always this tiny, or was he only just now noticing it?

“Come on. Please?” he asked, giving them what he hoped was a tender squeeze. “Just... put down the weapon. You don't _have_ to do this. I'm here now. I know it's confusing, and hard, and _scary. _But it doesn't _have _to be, you don't have to be afraid. You don't have to be alone anymore._”_

Frisk was crying openly as the knife fell from their hand, tears streaking down their cheeks as they seemed to cave in on themself, a single miserable hiccup emanating from them. He wasted no time in drawing them into a gentle hug, wrapping his arms around the now hysterically sobbing child, rocking them as soothingly as he could. They clung to him like a kitten trying to hide from a terrible storm, and god help him he would fight the storm back with his bare hands if he had to.

“I know. It's difficult. I know,” he stroked their head, wanting desperately to ease their pain and having absolutely no idea of _how_ to do so. “I know, little one. I know.”

0-0-0-0-0

In the distance, a small yellow flower vanished into the ground, passing like a shadow in the night.


	15. I Think I Need A Little Change

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus was not one to normally question himself.

He knew what type of person he was, or at least he thought he did. He thought he knew what type of person he _wanted_ to be. He wanted to be courageous. He wanted to be looked up to. He wanted to be heroic and bold and great. But as he knelt there in the crimson fallen leaves, carefully holding the quietly sobbing child clinging to his chest, he certainly didn't feel like any of those things. Not at all.

He just felt tired.

Papyrus patted their back gently as he could, drawing them into a close hug. He sighed and murmured that it was alright, though he knew both of them knew otherwise. But what else could he do? All he wanted was to ease their burdens, help them move forward, but how was he even supposed to do that? What was the good thing to do? What was the smart thing to do? What was the _right_ thing to do? What would a hero do? What would a hero think? What would a hero act like?

What even was a hero, really? And did he even know?

He didn't know how long he stayed there, kneeling in the crisp, dry leaves, just holding onto them. Their frantic crying eventually petered out into miserable hiccups and sniffling, but he kept a tight grip on them. He glanced down and noticed that they were keeping a suspiciously tight grip on their dusty pocketknife, but he tried not to show his discomfort. He just patted their back again and wearily began to peel away, standing up straight.

“... Are you going to be okay?' he asked after a long, uncomfortable stretch of silence. Surprisingly, they let out a single humorless laugh.

“Things stopped being 'okay' a long, long time ago,” Frisk said bitterly, crossing their arms.

Papyrus started to speak his mind, and had to stop himself from asking the multitude of questions that all demanded attention inside his head, so many that it was giving him a migraine. He started getting that feeling of deja vu again and shivered, finally just pinching the bridge of his nostril bone and letting out a long, heavy breath.

“Why don't you come inside, little one?”

“No,” they stated promptly, crossing their arms.

“Please?” he tried to keep from sighing again. “Come on,” he held out his hand to them, noting just how they were stealthily pulling the knife to their chest. “Let's-let's just go inside, little one,” he knelt before them again, arms out as calmly and gently as he could. “I know that things are difficult right now. But we _need_ to talk. It's okay if you don't want to. I understand. But at the very least,” Papyrus looked them in their carmine eyes. “Let's go inside for now, and just for a little bit, let's put down the knife.”

Frisk did not speak at all, nor did they even so much as seem to register his existence. However, after the longest time of silence, they at last took one slow, dawning, tiny glance up at him with their brows furrowed tightly.

They tucked the knife into their pocket, letting their arms hang limply by their side as they stared at the ground, utterly silent the entire time. Papyrus let out a breath that had been held a little too long, his head feeling light. He could almost _feel_ that awful, jagged pain ribboning across his chest, and tried very, very hard not to think about it. So instead, he held out a hand to them, which they took after some hesitation. He stood and walked in silence with them beside him, back towards the comforting looking house, back towards the light, back towards the safety of the welcoming place. Although something like 'safety' seemed to be up in the air right then, something else he tried not to think about. He made sure that his eager steps weren't too long so as to not leave them dragging, and breathed a hefty sigh of relief as they stepped through the door. Papyrus resisted the urge to take off his dust marred boots, feeling the disgust rise up again. Whatever the human had done down there, he didn't want to think about right now. The bag of cinnamon bunnies should have been right where he left them, hopefully. He gave their hand a small squeeze and drew them into the kitchen, where he pulled out a chair for them. However, they just stood in place when he released their hand, and he shifted back and forth wearily.

“... I pulled out the chair so that you could sit down,” Papyrus stated after a moment.

“I don't want to-”

“_Sit,” _Papyrus growled through his teeth, and they reacted in surprise to his unexpectedly dark tone. Frisk clambered up into the chair and sat with their hands tightly in their lap, head down and cheeks red. Papyrus only sighed again, mentally kicking himself for using his deep voice for such a minor thing. He ran his hand over the untouched bag of cinnamon bunnies sitting on the table, still warm. He nodded once to them and entered the kitchen, looking around for a long moment.

After a while, he pushed his insistent thoughts away and instead opened a couple of the cabinets, grateful to find that the owner of the house had stores tucked away. He pulled out a box at random and found himself smiling as he looked it over. Golden flower tea. Same awful stuff that Undyne seemed to like so much. It did have some kick though, he would admit. He guessed it would do for now, and wordlessly dug around the cabinets a bit longer until he found a couple of old surprisingly well kept tea cups. The owner of this homely abode must have really cared about keeping things tidy, and Papyrus silently appreciated it. It didn't take long to find a kettle as well and he found some solace in the simple act of making tea, even though something so ordinary felt laughable considering his current predicament. And yet, here he was. It didn't take long for the water to boil and he carefully poured a couple of cups of tea, carrying them as carefully as he could so as not to spill anything on the pristine wooden floor. He turned around and entered the opposite room to find the human with the bag of cinnamon bunnies in their lap as they furiously munched on one, crumbs dropping everywhere. Papyrus resisted the urge to give them a piece of his mind about proper dining manners, but in their defense, they were probably just as hungry as they always were when they emerged from the Ruins, and he let it slide. He set the steaming cup of tea on the table in front of them and Frisk watched him the entire time, closely, cautiously, on the edge of their seat as if ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

Papyrus quietly pulled out a chair and sat down beside them, placing his own cup of tea on the table and watching the golden swirls going around and around in circles, hypnotically drawing him in. He stared down into his steaming drink and let it cool before taking a sip. It was strong, but he supposed he could see how someone could grow a taste for it. He took another taste and promptly decided that he had absolutely no intention whatsoever of developing any sort of affinity for this particular brand and mentally filed it under things he'd rather not repeat.

They ate in silence and he sipped casually at intervals, musing things over.

“... We need to talk.”

Frisk did not respond. They did, however, slowly put down the cinnamon bunny that they had been chewing on. They started to shift out of their chair and he forcibly put a hand on their shoulder, surprising them again.

“Listen,” he said, albeit more desperately. “... We _need_ to _talk._”

“I don't want to.”

“I _know_ you don't want to,” Papyrus gave their shoulder a gentle squeeze, and they tensed suddenly as if wary of any other movement; he was careful to draw away slowly, lowering his voice and his head a bit more, looking them in the eyes. “I know. But we _have_ to talk about this, little one.”

Still Frisk did not speak. They uttered not a word as they silently sipped at their tea, face a blank canvas as they stared down into their drink, still as the grave.

“... Why do you keep doing this, little one?” Papyrus finally asked, unable to keep the weariness out of his tone this time. Frisk flinched a little but still did not look at him. “I'm not stupid, you know. I've seen the... the dust.”

Frisk was actively looking anywhere but him now, tea completely forgotten on the table.

“I can't imagine what kind of pain you must have been in,” he continued. “To want to lash out at others like this. But... this _has_ to stop. Please,” he carefully placed a hand on their shoulder as gently as he could, and they still recoiled as if they had just been slapped. “It doesn't have to be this way, little one. There is good in this world, I really, truly believe that.”

“You...” Frisk stared up at him for a moment before closing their eyes and letting out a single amused breath. “You really are an idiot. Don't you know anything about how this world works? It's kill or be killed.”

There again was that awful sense of deja vu, but he shook it off.

“And where ever you learned such a misinformed opinion is blatantly wrong,” he stated with confidence. “I just _know_ that you can turn your life around,” Papyrus gripped their shoulder as gently as he could, giving them the most confident smile he could muster. “I know that things are confusing right now; believe you me, I _get_ it. But you are headed down a dark and dangerous path. I believe that everyone can be a good person, if they just try. So... can you do that for me, human?”

Still Frisk did not answer, did not look up, did not even register his existence. So he knelt down a little until he was eye level with them, tilting their chin up.

“... Please, human. I _know_ you can do better. Even if you don't, even if absolutely _nobody _else does, remember this. I _believe_ in you.”

Papyrus hadn't been expecting the sudden flood of tears; they did not cry aloud, no sobbing, not a single noise emanated from them whatsoever, and yet the tears kept streaming down their cheeks as they finally closed their eyes, drew in a deep, slow, unsteady breath, and finally looked back.

“... Okay. I'll... I can try. For you. Just... just this once.”

And then they stabbed him.

0-0-0-0-0

The sound of the alarm clock going off resounded throughout the room, and Papyrus's eye sockets shot open. He slapped the obnoxious ringing box a couple of times and woozily swung his legs out of bed, staring straight ahead to the calendar.

Tuesday.

Papyrus let out a sigh, ran a hand over his face, and rubbed his temples tiredly. It felt like it had been so _long _since he'd had an actual night's sleep. But his mind was already abuzz with a myriad of possibilities and probabilities that he absolutely had to adhere to. The emotions roiling through him were something he would just have to address later. He dressed as quickly as he could, forgoing the battle body in favor of the first thing he grabbed in his closet. A pair of loose fitting ratty jeans and an old black leather jacket that was still in surprisingly good shape, but he just didn't have time for a full battle body attire, not when there was so much to do. So he left a little note for Sans, and was out the door in a matter of minutes. This time, things would be different. This time, things were going to change for the better.

This time, he was going to _make_ things change, whether the world agreed with him or not.

0-0-0-0-0


	16. Knock Knock

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus, for what felt like the first time in a while, was in quite a hurry.

The cool, crisp morning air hit him like a breeze of fresh breath and he took in a deep inhale through his nostril bone. He drew in his jacket a little tighter and bolted down the steps, making sure to avoid the rickety one for fear of another incident in which he would invariably wind up stuck for half an hour waiting for his brother to help him out of it. Granted, most of that time had been spent laughing, and not by him, but he pushed it to the back of his mind with the rest of his issues which seemed to be piling up by the day.

“Morning Barry,” Papyrus gave a quick half hearted wave to the coffee drinking monster hanging around the library.

“Oh, hey-” he shifted his paper after a moment of looking at the skeleton. “Do you know a nine letter-”

“Not the _time_ Barry,” he blew him off without a second thought, marching steadfastly toward the shop at the edge of the town. The strong scent of cinnamon was drawing him in even faster and he couldn't quite keep the pep out of his step as he approached the door. He sucked in a deep breath through his teeth, ran a hand over his head, and put on his most confident smile as he pushed open the door.

“Good _morning_, miss!” Papyrus heard the doorbell chime above him and the shopkeeper jumped a little, and he made sure to lower his tone just a bit after remembering that she didn't like loud noises. He tried his best to keep a mental list of all the things she preferred and disliked, but it still made him feel manipulative. He didn't care for the feeling.

“Oh! G'mornin', hon – come on in outta the cold, what can I get for ya?”

“Oh, I don't mind the cold,” Papyrus said conversationally, leaning against the counter with his best winning grin. “Goes right through me, you know?”

Bunni tittered and her smile grew, her ears curling in just a bit. He really did enjoy the sight on her, but he had to keep focused and stop staring.

“Would you happen to be the one who makes those wonderful cinnamon treats?” he started off inquisitively.

“Well, sure! Can I get ya a few, darlin'?”

“A whole bag, if they taste as half as good as they smell,” he gave her a confident wink. She blushed slightly and passed him the goods, which he was quick to pay for and leave. A stinging pain in his soul rang out for several reasons. It felt just plain_ wrong_ to play her right into his hands. He knew what to say, he knew how to say it for the optimal outcome, but it still made his whole soul feel greasy and gross. After all, he wouldn't like it very much if he found out that someone had been pulling at his puppet strings. But was that all he was starting to see people as? Reactions tied to reactions, knowing what to say and how to say it? That was so _terrible, _it certainly didn't make the ache in his soul any better. He tried to shake off the feeling as he left, giving her one last tired smile before slipping out the door, bag of hot cinnamon bunnies tucked tightly under one arm. He marched as quickly as he could past the ice coated entrance sign to Snowdin, desperately trying not to feel as scummy as he did. But still, she wouldn't remember anyway, so what was the big deal?

Papyrus _immediately_ skipped a step, giving himself a hard shake. That was a very dangerous, sharp and slippery slope, and one that he point blank refused to go tripping down. Even if nobody else remembered, even if he was maybe the only one in the whole town who remembered this day for what it was, he _refused_ to manipulate others for his own personal gain. That's not what a good person would do. That's not what a hero would do at all.

But then Flowey's words came drifting back unbidden and unwanted.

_What's the harm in having a little fun...?_

He shook his head again and dug out his phone with his free hand while he marched, making sure to keep up the pace. He'd already made up his mind. It took several rings and a couple of times someone answered and then immediately hung up, but he didn't stop trying. After the fifth time, his patience was finally rewarded.

“Good morning, Doctor Alphys?” Papyrus asked as he walked.

“Y-yes? Hello?”

“I need you to write down a number for me.”

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus was quick to march past the plethora of puzzles he'd laid out for the human. After all, he doubted they'd be coming through this early, and besides, that wasn't part of his current plan anyway. Still, it seemed a shame to let them go to waste. Maybe if all went well the human wouldn't mind trying a few of them out. Everyone liked puzzles, even if they didn't know it yet.

But not the invisible electricity maze. He preferred not to try that one again until it had been fine tuned.

He hurriedly passed his sentry station and then his brother's, the slightly jealous feeling rising again. Sans had a perfectly good, well crafted sentry station that wasn't made out of cardboard and old junk, and he never even showed up to the thing. He let out a breath through his teeth and kept marching, right past that old weirdly shaped lamp that Sans refused to pick up. It wasn't even plugged in, did he just keep it there for cosmetic purposes? If so, he had a long way to go before he could consider himself a decent decorator. But he (hopefully) had time to berate his brother on his laziness later. Right now, he had a job to do, and time was running short.

Over the bridge and through the shoddily constructed gate, Papyrus made one final stop at the place Alphys had informed him of. And there, right where she told him it was, was a small video camera tucked away in a bush aimed right in front of the massive stone door at the edge of the Ruins. He gave a smile and a small wave to the camera, standing up a bit straighter and continuing along his way. Papyrus gazed up at the humongous door and let out a weary breath through his teeth, the Delta Rune worn and dirty but still gleaming despite its age. It felt almost sacrilegious to do what he was about to do, but sometimes it was better to ask forgiveness than permission. That didn't stop him from giving the gigantic door a few hard knocks first. Unsurprisingly, nobody answered. That tiny bit of hope he still held on to sank in his chest a little, but he refused to be deterred. So, he straightened up, took in a few deep breaths to steady himself, and held out his free hand palm up towards the wall that the door was firmly set into.

“Howdy!”

Papyrus jolted hard and glanced around for a moment before realizing that Flowey was smiling up at him from between his feet, as if oblivious to the fact that Papyrus was busy trying to save the world.

“Goodness, Flowey,” Papyrus held a gloved hand to his chest, letting out an unsteady breath. “Do you _really_ have to do that? You scared the rattles out of me!”

“Oops,” he tittered without a hint of remorse. “Silly me. You're awfully jumpy today, Papyrus. And what's up with that silly getup? What happened to your armor?”

“I kind of just grabbed the first thing I saw in the closet,” he admitted as he pinched the black tee shirt under his leather jacket and held it out a little, feeling much more self conscious in his ratty torn jeans. “I'm in a bit of a hurry today you see, Flowey.”

“You sure seem to be,” Flowey tilted back and grinned a little wider. “Taking the fight right to the human, huh? Golly, I don't think I've ever seen you in such a rush, Papyrus.”

“I don't plan to fight them, if I can help it” he rolled his shoulders, a slight breeze at the back of his neck making his bones prickle. “I need to get into the Ruins, and fast.”

“I could go for you,” the little flower offered. “Wouldn't having a little messenger buddy make things a little easier?”

“I'm sorry, but I have to decline...” Papyrus crossed his arms. “I'm going into something dangerous, and I don't want to ever put you in harm's way, little one.”

“Gosh, that's so brave of you,” Flowey stated without emotion. “But seriously Papyrus, are you really going to go charging right in there without your armor? I mean, that doesn't seem like you at all, you know?”

“I know,” Papyrus ran a hand down his face, the itching urge to beat the clock starting to make him sweat uncomfortably all over his skull. “Things have been so _weird_ lately, you wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“Who knows?” Flowey gave him a subtle wink. “I know lots of things, Papyrus. The offer _always _stands for _you_, bestie. Any time at all that you need my help, just call out my name, and who knows? I might just show up to help you,” he finished with an unempathetic giggle.

“Right now,” Papyrus pushed out his arms and summoned as much magic as he could muster. “What I really need is for you to get to safety. I'm about to do something _extremely_ foolish, and I just know that I am going to be kicking myself for it tomorrow, but people are in _danger_. If I don't act now, people could get hurt. Now, I'm not going to say it again. Stand. _Back._”

Flowey only stared at him in something that might have been confusion or awe. Papyrus couldn't really tell. But then after the longest pause, Flowey's face finally contorted into a bemused, jittery smirk, as if he was trying to keep from laughing.

“You are always just so full of surprises,” he uttered at last, shaking his head with a smile. “Don't you worry, Papyrus. I'll see you soon.”

And with that he was gone, leaving the skeleton completely and utterly alone in the forest. The gentle breeze gave purchase to a solitary moment of solace, and he mused over just how much easier it would be to just turn around and wait for the human. If they even showed up at all. Sometimes they didn't. But what if that was because something was wrong? No, no matter how much he wanted to turn back, he couldn't do that when there were people to help. That wasn't what a hero would do, and that certainly wasn't what Papyrus was going to do. So, he steadied the paper bag under one arm, threw out his other and released a vibrant _burst_ of magic that had been building, an array of explosive bones blasting a small hole in the wall beside the door. His breathing was heavy and his head was pounding, but he sucked in a sharp breath and held his trembling hand out again, this time focusing more on finesse rather than brute force. It had never been his forte, but he had to try. This time the magic came easier now that he wasn't attempting to break through a foot of solid stone, and he used his ethereally summoned bones to smash into the crumbling rock and widen the hole just enough that he could more easily slip through. He allowed his eye sockets to adjust to the darkness for nearly a minute, squinting hard and glancing around.

And this time, there was no dust.

“Knock knock? Anyone home...?”

Papyrus's soul soared, as he gazed around seeing no destruction, eagerness and anticipation rising. It didn't look as though anything aside from the hole he'd just created had disturbed the area, there were no signs of battle, no rips or burns along the walls or door. It really was as if it had never happened at all. It gave him quite a bit more hope, and he hurried down the hall to where he knew the corner would turn. Perhaps this meant that the human had changed their ways? Maybe they really_ had _given thought to what he had told them, and what a delight that would be! Papyrus was doing his best, and maybe, just _maybe_, it was enough to turn someone's life around. He practically bounded around the corner, bag of warm treats tucked under one arm as he finally reached the stairs. He ascended as carefully as he could, poking his head around the banister and looking about. The well lit place seemed to be pretty much the same as the last time he was there, with one exception. That lingering scent of cinnamon and something else, something lovely and soothing that drew him further into the house. Something homely.

“Hello?” he dared to call out, fearful that he would receive no answer. And, against his gnawing suspicions, someone actually answered.

“Oh! Hello!” a matronly voice answered from what sounded like the kitchen. Papyrus kept a tight grip on the banister and tried not to glance back down at the darkness where he had found the dust in that last timeline. He did _not _want to be thinking about that right now. It was only a moment before a surprisingly tall, elegant caprine woman rounded the corner, her small horns poking through tufts of hair, long ears hanging down almost to her vibrant royal purple robes, imbued with the exact same symbol as the one painted on the door to the Ruins. Papyrus realized after a moment that he was staring at the barefoot baffled woman and shook his head hard. Crazily enough, she reminded him somewhat of the king, but that was just silly. King Asgore had a beard, and she clearly did not. And now it was difficult to look directly at her without picturing her with a beard.

“Good morning,” he sputtered at last, gripping the bag of treats a little tighter. “You know, to be perfectly honest, I wasn't entirely sure that I would find anyone here.”

“Well,” she gestured to herself with a small smile. “I'm afraid I don't know an 'anyone', but I do live here. My apologies, friend, I did not hear the door. Can I help you with something?”

“Well,” he shifted awkwardly, leaning against the banister. “I didn't exactly come through the – never mind, it's not important. I'm actually looking for a _friend_, maybe you can help me?”

“I'd be delighted to,” she smiled, and there again was that motherly beaming glow that seemed to shine from her. He didn't even know this woman, and yet he was already starting to like her. “Can I get you anything? Oh, goodness,” she held a hand to her chest with a small laugh. “I'm afraid I didn't even introduce myself, it's been a bit of a strange morning.”

“Oh, _tell_ me about it,” Papyrus found himself laughing a little despite himself. He held out a gloved hand and she shook it daintily. “I am the Great Papyrus! But you can just call me Papyrus,” he felt a bit self conscious proclaiming himself as 'great' when she looked at him like that.

“Papyrus? Well, that changes things. My name is Toriel,” she explained. “I am the guardian and caretaker of the Ruins.”

“Well, you're clearly doing a great job,” he glanced around. “I mean, this place looks fantastic, very tidy.”

“Why, thank you! Oh!” she swiftly spun on the spot after sniffing the air and headed back to where he knew the kitchen was. “Excuse me for just a moment, dear.”

Papyrus followed her silently and watched as she slipped on a pair of large fuzzy oven mittens, carefully extracting a delightful smelling pie from the oven and setting it on top to cool, the steaming treat making his mouth water.

“I am dreadfully sorry about that,” she took off the gloves and set them on the oven top. “I'd hate to burn a perfectly good pie.”

“If it tastes anything like it smells, I'd say it's a few steps above perfection,” he leaned against the door frame.

“Well, aren't you the flatterer?” she tittered, hiding her smile behind her hand. It made his soul shiver momentarily.

“I happen to be a master chef myself,” he puffed out his chest a little.

“Do you play music while you cook?” she asked suddenly.

“Well, no, I do my best work in silence.”

“I prefer to listen to the _treble chef,_” Toriel's smile grew a little wider. Papyrus groaned and couldn't help but let out a small chuckle.

“Wow. That was terrible,” he couldn't quite keep the smile off his face. “But I guess we all have to find our own _quiche_ to fit in to.”

Toriel giggled and leaned against the counter top.

“Well, I do _pie_ my best,” she snorted.

“:Puns,” he sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Every single day with the puns. You know, you seem like the sort of person my brother would adore.”

“You mean Sans?”

“Yes, his name i- wait, what?” Papyrus blinked twice and stared at her. “You know my brother?”

“But of course,” she nodded once. “We met one day, telling knock knock jokes through the door to the Ruins. He was the one who told me about this wonderful person.”

“What is this person like? I might know them,” Papyrus stared at her.

“Oh, from what I've heard?” Toriel's smile grew. “He's the most wonderful person. Always dressing his best, eager and excited to meet each day with enthusiasm. Oh, and apparently he's the best chef in the entire Underground.”

“Wow,” Papyrus blinked. “I'd love to meet this person, he sounds incredible.”

“_Great_, even,” Toriel's smile never left her lips, and when he stared at her in confusion she just tittered again and shook her head.

“Please, allow me to get you a cup of tea,” she opened a couple of cabinets. “Oh, where did I put it...”

“Second shelf, two boxes back,” Papyrus answered and immediately wished he hadn't. Toriel pulled out the box of teabags and stared at him for what felt like hours, sweat beginning to gather on the back of his head.

“... How did you know that?” she asked quietly.

“Spotted it when you opened the cabinet,” he felt like the scum of the earth for lying. “My eyesight is very good for someone who has no eyes.”

Toriel snickered and set about heating the oven top and putting the kettle on, boiling water steaming throughout the kitchen. He released a silent sigh of relief and tried to force himself to keep from rambling, though there was that desperate itch to just talk to _someone_ about all of this. It didn't take long for the tea to finish, and she silently poured them each a cup.

“Thank you kindly,” he took a sip of the tea and promptly regretted it. Golden flower tea. Again. It brought back some unpleasant memories of standing in the dust of what might have been this woman in another time. But how was he supposed to bring _that_ up? Hey, how's it going, I saw you dead yesterday? There was no way that he could bring it up without sounding absolutely insane. He hadn't even noticed that he was following Toriel into the adjacent room where she pulled a chair out for him, and he silently thanked her again before sinking into the wooden seat. She sat directly next to him, holding the tea in her large furry hands, the absolute picture of serenity. She reminded him of Bunni, in a lot of ways, and the mere realization was already making him warm up to her.

“You said that you were looking for someone? A friend?” Toriel asked, drawing him out of his reverie. He hadn't even noticed that he'd been staring down into his barely touched tea. He nodded a couple of times and took a few more sips, not wanting to seem impolite.

“Yes, actually,” he cleared his throat. “It's actually quite important that I find them. More important than I can say.”

“Well, what did they look like?”

“They're about this tall,” he held a gloved hand out to what he approximated to be Frisk's height. "They have unkempt brown hair, red eyes, they're wearing a striped jumper – oh, and they're human, almost forgot that part-”

“Excuse me?” Toriel suddenly tensed, and Papyrus could _feel_ the room grow a little colder. “And tell me, _how_ do you know this human?”

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you,” Papyrus answered sadly, taking a long, slow drink of his tea, finishing it off and setting the cup down on the table with a quiet _clink._ “I mean, it sounds absolutely _insane_, if I told you the truth you would probably think me either lying, mad or both. And gauging from your reaction, it sounds an awful lot like you know them too.”

“I did meet a human today, yes,” she said at long last, that distrustful look on her features not fitting her at all. “But Papyrus, this is very important. I want you to be truthful with me, do you understand?”

He hadn't even realized that he was nodding, it felt like he was being scolded by a mother he didn't have. A hot rush of shame flooded his cheeks and he shook his head, having very nearly almost forgotten that he was a fully grown skeleton and fully capable of handling this himself, and yet he still felt as though he were being scrutinized by a parent.

“You want the truth?” he asked after a long stretch of silence, finally looking her in the eyes. “Miss Toriel-”

“Please,” the calm demeanor returned as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Just Toriel.”

“Toriel,” he sighed and shook his head again. “I have been reliving the exact same day over and over again,” Papyrus didn't know why he was telling her this, he just so badly wanted _someone_ to know. “And every day, the human comes out of the door to the Ruins, and every day – every-every day,” it was getting harder to continue, but he pushed himself on despite the lump in his throat. “Every day, they come out covered in dust. And I-I...”

“Papyrus,” Toriel began carefully. “You didn't hit your head or something, did you? That door cannot be opened except from the inside, and nobody has come through there.”

He felt his soul sink into his chest, the painful throbbing ache returning in full force.

“... Yes,” he lied, feeling as though he had just been kicked in the sternum. “As a matter of fact, I did hit my head. After I met the human, I must have found my way here,” Papyrus forced a smile, but it felt so false, so pained, it made his whole being hurt. “Silly me. I must have gotten all mixed up in the head.”

“You really should be more careful,” Toriel patted his head calmly.

“I did say you wouldn't believe me,” he wanted to cry, but forcibly shoved the feeling back down. Then an idea struck him.

“Actually,” he resisted the urge to wipe his face. He turned the empty tea cup around a few times before finally looking at her. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” she nodded. “However, I am afraid that I am a bit short on time, I promised that I would return for a little one; I really wasn't expecting guests today.”

“I want you to tell me something,” Papyrus shifted in his seat, the chair creaking as he leaned forward. “I am going to tell you something about myself that nobody else knows, and then I want you to do the same. Alright?”

“Yes?” she blinked uncertainly.

“I have have all of Mettaton's deluxe edition box sets recorded in a cabinet under my television,” he stated slowly. “Sometimes I get up and stay up all night watching his shows because I don't want to feel alone.”

Toriel covered her mouth with her hand, though he detected no smiles this time.

“I... I know what it feels like to be alone,” she said at last, and he detected quite a bit more than a hint of sadness in her tone. “I... I have lost so many that I cared for,” Toriel refused to meet his gaze anymore, only staring at her feet. “I have never told anyone this, but... it is my lifelong dream to become a schoolteacher,” she closed her eyes and smiled slowly, shaking her head again. “I suppose that perhaps it is not all that surprising. After all, I-”

There was a sharp rapping at the door and they both stood, Papyrus looking at the woman to discover that she looked rather panicked.

“Oh my goodness, I lost track of the time!” she blurted, bolting past him. Papyrus was quick to follow, and there, standing quite confused on the doorstep, was the human. Papyrus didn't see a knife in their hand this time, they were only holding a stick and staring up at the pair of them.

“Little one!” Toriel knelt down to their eye level and smiled. “Did I not ask you to remain where you were until I fetched you? I suppose it does not matter – you have an injury,” she gently rubbed a thumb over a scratch mark on their cheek, a quick wash of healing magic clearing it away. Papyrus noted immediately that their hands were free from dust, no sign of it anywhere on them... although their clothes were plenty torn and dirty. “Poor thing; you are not hurt, are you?”

Frisk only shook their head, looking up to Papyrus once before turning back to Toriel.

“What is he doing here?” Frisk looked him up and down, as if drinking in the sight.

“Is this your friend?” Toriel looked back and forth between them.

“Indeed,” Papyrus nodded. “It is nice to see you in good health, human!”

“Why don't you come inside?” Toriel dusted her hands off. “I just finished a nice butterscotch cinnamon pie, I hope that you like it.”

“... Can I talk to you for a second?” Frisk looked up at Papyrus. Papyrus only nodded once, and still they said nothing.

“... _Alone?_” Frisk reiterated, and Toriel blinked. Papyrus just shrugged and Toriel made a silent _o_ with her lips before nodding as well and heading off for the other room. Papyrus stepped outside and quietly closed the door behind him, taking a few steps and following the human down to where the leaves were piled up against the steps. He could have _sworn_ that he saw a flash of yellow there, but there was nothing there when he checked.

“What in the _hell_ do you think you're doing?” Frisk hissed.

“First of all, _language,_” he shook a finger at them.

“And what are you _wearing?_” they stared him up and down, eyes lingering on his leather jacket.

“I was in a bit of a hurry this morning,” that self conscious feeling rising up again. “I was hoping to catch up with you earlier, but it seems you got here just fine. You... you haven't _hurt_ anyone, have you?”

“No,” Frisk kicked their feet sullenly, not looking up at him. “Not like it matters anyway.”

Papyrus let out a quiet sigh and knelt down in front of them. They still didn't look at him, but they did grow very still.

“Little one,” Papyrus explained. “Of _course_ it matters. Everyone's life matters; yours, mine, people we know, people we don't. All life has value. And to take that, to take someone's life... let me ask you something. Why is it that every time you come out of the Ruins, you're covered in dust?”

“Why do you think, stupid?” Frisk scoffed.

“Answer the question.”

Frisk grew very still and wouldn't look at him anymore.

“... Do you feel bad for what you've done?”

“Does it matter?” Frisk finally looked at him, and he didn't think he'd ever seen someone look so tired just from their eyes.

“Yes.”

“For _what_-?”

“It matters to _me,_” he insisted, watching as their eyebrows shot up a bit. “It matters to me because _you_ matter to me, little one. You matter to _me_. And seeing you lash out at others, seeing them hurt, seeing _you _hurt... I don't want you to be hurt,” Papyrus finished lamely, his elbows resting on his knees. “I don't want _anyone_ to get hurt. I just want to do the right thing. Haven't you ever had someone that cares about you, that you know would never want anything bad to happen to you? Someone that cares?”

Frisk just shook their head, giving him that sad, tired look again.

“It doesn't matter,” they answered dejectedly. “Everyone will stab you in the back eventually. Your family. Your friends. Your mom. It's the people you trust the most that take advantage of you the most. Don't you get that?”

“... It sounds to me like you have a very warped definition of what caring and family is,” Papyrus's soul twinged with that awful ache. “... Listen to me,” he tilted their chin up with a single finger bone, watching as they wiped the wetness from their crimson eyes. “And listen good, little one. I _promise_ that I will turn your life around. I will show you that the world isn't all bad. Sure, there are _some _bad times, but there are good times, too. I promise. And there's no better promise than a promise from the Great Papyrus, nyeh heh heh.”

“... My god you're naive.”

“What can I say, I'm a glass half full kind of pessimist,” he shrugged again. “So what do you say, human Frisk?” Papyrus held out his hand to them hopefully, that tilted smile growing on his features. “What do you say? We can go inside, have some nice tea and pie, and I can show you that the world isn't such a scary place with someone who cares about you by your side. I'm willing to be that person for you, to be there for you. So what do you say? Just this once? Just for me? Will you try?”

Frisk only stared at him.

And stared.

And stared.

And then they started laughing.

Frisk giggled and snorted, shaking their head before rubbing their cheeks a few times, finally gazing back up at him. And, much to his surprise, they were smiling. Not that plastered on, plastic looking smile, but a real, genuine, beaming smile.

“Papyrus,” Frisk took his hand in both of theirs, giving it a squeeze. “You really are a _fucking moron_. But sure. Just this once. Let's give it a shot and see what happens.”

0-0-0-0-0


	17. Heroes Dress In Black

0-0-0-0-0

Of all of the things Papyrus had been expecting today, it certainly wasn't this.

He hadn't expected to be jumping out of bed in the morning. He hadn't expected to practically run through Snowdin or blast a hole in someone's basement wall. And he most certainly hadn't expected to find himself sitting at a dining table having tea with a stranger and a human like it was a perfectly normal breakfast.

“... So, is anyone going to say anything?” Papyrus asked at last, setting his teacup down with a clink on the small saucer provided by Toriel.

“Oh, goodness!” Toriel blinked a couple of times, putting her own teacup down. “I do hope you'll forgive me, I haven't had guests in ages. I suppose that it has been a little quiet, has it not?”

“Not that,” Papyrus frowned, the feeling foreign and unwelcome on his features. “I meant about, you know...” he nodded violently toward Frisk a few times, and they just stared up at him as if it were all painfully obvious.

“I'm afraid I don't quite follow, Papyrus.”

Papyrus sighed and pinched his nostril bone, questions piling up one after another.

“None of this makes sense,” he leaned forward with his forearms on the table, interlocking his fingers. “You already know me because you know my brother, and yet for some reason, he has never _once_ mentioned you. You see someone uninvited in your house, and instead of throwing me out, you offer me pie and _tea._ You live alone, but you have multiple bedrooms, and for _some reason,_” Papyrus's fingers were trembling a little as he stared. “Despite the fact that you clearly know the human here, you don't seem to be the _least_ bit interested in bringing them to King Asgore, which may I remind you, is a royal _decree_ that all citizens must abide by. So, my question is...” he steepled his fingers together, pressing them over his teeth for a moment before folding them in his lap.

“Who, exactly, _are_ you?” Papyrus could only stare at her as she gave him that odd, tilted, sad little smile.

“I believe that I already told you,” she stated simply. “I am Toriel. Guardian and caretaker of the Ruins.”

“I sincerely doubt that that is _all_ there is to you,” Papyrus folded his arms, brows furrowing. “You live alone, but you have enough food for an entire family. There's nobody else here, but you have enough chairs for plenty more. And despite your claim that you are of no importance, your robes have the royal sigil woven into them, and yet you still expect me to believe that you're some random nobody?”

“... Well,” Toriel's smile faded just a bit as she folded one large hand over the other. “You certainly are an inquisitive one, aren't you?”

“I just want some _answers,” _Papyrus tried not to sound pleading, despite the urgent tone in his voice. “Everything has been going _sideways_ lately, is an answer or two really so much to ask?”

“I'm afraid I don't quite follow,” Toriel gave him that look again before glancing over to Frisk, who was staring back and forth between the two with intensity. “I have some questions of my own, actually. You seem to know a bit more about me than someone who has just recently come into my house would know, am I correct?”

“I've... I've been here before,” Papyrus admitted at last, letting out a tired sigh. “But like I said, it's too crazy. You wouldn't _believe_ me if I told you the truth.”

“Well then, would you at least humor me?” she gave him that patient little smile again.

“I've been traveling backwards through time,” he admitted, and just as he suspected, she only covered her mouth and let out a stifled laugh.

“See?” Papyrus leaned on the table with one arm, chin in his hand. “Told you that you wouldn't believe me.”

“Time travel, now, is it?” her smile grew. “If you can do that, then why on earth would you be in a hurry for answers?”

“Because they aren't just going to show up if I stand around and wait for them,” he stated as if it were obvious.

“Goodness, you really must have hit your head hard; poor thing,” Toriel poured him more tea from the kettle. “This friend of yours,” she turned to Frisk, who had barely touched their drink. “Have you known him long?”

Frisk only looked between the two before giving a single nod. That seemed to be enough for Toriel, who reclined back in her seat, teacup dangling daintily betwixt her fingers.

“Where did you say you were from again?” Toriel asked after a while of silence.

“Snowdin,” he answered honestly. “It's not too far from that big door that you have downstairs.”

That seemed to cause her to flinch for some reason.

“That is not possible,” she explained carefully. “That door cannot be opened from the outside-”

“I know,” Papyrus said promptly. “That's why I blew a big hole in the wall next to it-”

“YOU DID _WHAT._”

“Would you like to see for yourself?” Papyrus stood and pushed in his chair. She certainly didn't seem all that interested in the time travel thing anymore. “Maybe then you'll believe me when I tell you something. I certainly hope it helps-”

“Do you have _any_ idea of what you've done?” Toriel stood abruptly and the immense _presence_ she radiated was enough to cause him to take a step back. “These Ruins are a _sacred_ place, you can_not _have defiled the very place I am sworn to guard!”

“I feel like we skipped a couple of steps here,” he stuttered and held up his hands, looking to Frisk for guidance, who was of absolutely no help and simply sat back drinking tea and watching the scene unfold. “I promise that I didn't mean any harm-”

Toriel's palms _exploded_ in a pair of magically conjured fireballs, barely concealed rage bursting out of every restrained thrum of magic.

“Okay okay okay!” he held up his hands peacefully. “Nyeh, heh heh, erhm. Let's not-not get over_ zealous_ here, it's-it's really not a _big_ hole, I swear-”

“Did anyone see you come here?” she demanded, and he had to fight to hold his ground, the urge to back up from the woman growing ever bigger. The once matronly and calm monster seemed to have developed into a terrifying, powerful figure in a matter of moments, and those trembling hands grasping at magic flames certainly didn't look inviting.

“No,” he said promptly. “Nobody else knows I'm here, absolutely not,” he felt like scum for lying, but if he told the woman about Flowey, what kind of danger might he get into? He certainly didn't want his little friend in the middle of such a conflict, who knew what kind of damage that could do to someone so small? Speaking of...

Frisk still sat between the two, calmly drinking their tea as if this were all some friendly conversation between family, like it was perfectly normal and he wasn't under threat of being broiled alive.

“I know that you are angry,” he carefully put his hands down, trying not to show just how nervous he was. “I would be, too. But please, _please_ understand this; I only came here with the best of intentions, I promise. I just want what is best for everyone, alright Miss Toriel?”

“Just... _just _Toriel,” the fires in her hands died out as she sighed and hung her head a little, her ears drooping. It made his soul ache for some reason, watching what was only moments ago a frightening and powerful fountain of willpower suddenly devolve into this weary, worn down old woman... it made something in him twist in pain, and he did not care for the feeling one bit. He eventually reached out and touched her shoulder as gently as he could, giving her a small smile.

“I can help rebuild the wall, if that helps,” he offered after an uncomfortable minute.

“... Take me to it,” she commanded with such intensity that the thought of disobeying refused to occur to him. “To the door. Now.”

“I'll be back in a little bit, alright little one?” Papyrus leaned down and petting Frisk on the head, who stuck out their tongue and slapped his hand away with both of theirs. Papyrus only smiled and shook his head, standing up straight and heading towards the entrance. It took them hardly any time at all to head down the corridor and down the stairs, the darkness encroaching just a bit more as they walked the silent halls. He rounded the corner with Toriel close in tow, and he could feel the cool breeze of Snowdin's forest before he even saw the hole. It was, in fact, just a bit bigger than he recalled having made it; perhaps the application of brute force first hadn't been his best idea.

“... You really were telling the truth,” she held a hand over her mouth, the other crossed over her chest. “You... you're from the _outside_.”

“Well, technically this whole Underground _is_ inside,” he hoped to diffuse the situation just a little. “But, yes, I am from Snowdin. I really am sorry about your wall, by the way,” he shifted awkwardly. He stood back as she cast out her arms, worried as he saw her eyes begin to glow. She chanted something in an ancient, forgotten tongue that if he had ears would have made them burn. It made his skull ache terribly to hear them, and he could only watch in amazement as the hole blasted through the stone began to weave and knit itself back together, piece by piece, rubble and debris gathering together and mending the stone wall back into perfect, pristine condition. Toriel's eyes returned to normal as her arms dropped to her side, her breathing heavy and labored.

“... Okay,” Papyrus said at last. “That was pretty cool. I've never seen _anyone_ use magic like that before, how... how did you _do _that?”

“With my hands, mostly,” she grinned weakly at him. Papyrus only sighed and pinched his nostril bone.

“Puns. Every single day with the puns – little one?”

Toriel spun on the spot where Frisk had been standing, just staring at her. They looked back to Papyrus for a moment as if gauging something that he couldn't quite see.

“You shouldn't be down here, little one,” Toriel knelt a bit. “It is quite dusty, you will catch a cough.”

“When can I go home?”

Toriel flinched and Papyrus wasn't quite certain of the expression that she wore. It made her look older, it made something in his chest hurt.

“Little one,” she explained carefully as if to a much smaller child. “You _are_ home. This _is_ your home now. Understand?”

“But when can I leave?” Papyrus was getting more and more uncomfortable the longer he watched the light drain from Toriel's eyes. “How do I exit the Ruins?”

“... Go upstairs.”

“But I-”

“I _said_-” Toriel cast an arm back down the corridor. “Go. Back. Upstairs.”

“I need to leave,” Frisk insisted. “I have to go. Tell her, Papyrus,” they looked back to him, and it dawned on him all of a sudden that he had been just standing there staring as if outside of his own body, unable to fully comprehend what had just happened, and it all came rushing back in at once. Frisk started off down the hall past him, waiting for him to follow.

“We really can't stay here, Mis- Toriel,” he tried to let her down as gently as he could, but her head drooped regardless. Her shoulders were slumped, her chest heaving.

“Don't you understand...?” she said without looking up. “They.... _Asgore_. Will kill you. I am only doing what is _best _for you,” Toriel's fists were trembling. “Now be good. And go. Upstairs. _Now._”

“No, Toriel-” Papyrus held a hand out to her and it was promptly slapped away. “Please, understand; I _know _that it's difficult, but-”

“Oh, _do_ you now?” Toriel's features contorted into that of aching nostalgia and pain. “Do you _know_ what it's like? To lose someone that you care about? To lose a _child?_”

Ah. Suddenly the dust coated, empty children's room upstairs both made a lot more sense and felt a lot harder to think about.

“... I'm sorry,” he said fervently, quietly, but firmly. “I truly am so, so sorry. I... I had no idea.”

“I will destroy the door leading to the Ruins,” Toriel stated plainly, her fists balling up. “The magic in the door will collapse the entire tunnel. Nobody will ever be able to leave, not ever again.”

“Are you _insane?_” Papyrus blurted. “You – Toriel, you _can't_ be serious!”

“Deathly so,” her face as grim as the reaper himself. “Now do as you are told. And go back upstairs.”

“I can't let you do that!” he stood his ground, planting his feet apart and keeping himself between her and the door. “There are people that _live _here, you can't just decide for everyone that nobody should be allowed through!”

“I have decided plenty more for plenty more,” Toriel met his gaze, her withering stare unending and harrowing, but he couldn't back down now. “Now, stand aside. I _have_ to do this.”

“No!” Papyrus dug in his heels. “No, you _don't._ This-this isn't _right_, Toriel. Are you even _listening _to yourself?” he held his tongue for a moment, trying to find the right words. “_Please_, Toriel, I am offering you _mercy_ here. Would you really do that to someone? To me? To _them?_” he cast a hand out to Frisk, who hadn't budged an inch the entire time. Their unwavering steadfast determination was just a bit frightening, actually. “Please, don't be rash about this, Toriel. Think this through, okay? Your actions won't just affect yourself, you know; to deny someone the very right to leave? The little one? It isn't just wrong, Toriel. It's _cruel._”

She threw out a hand to him and he flinched and instinctively tried to shield Frisk with his body, but no jetting gout of flame came as he expected. Her hand opened and closed like she was trying to reach out for them, her mouth strained in a tight line, and it was a full beat before he realized that she was silently crying.

“... You are right,” she sighed at last, wiping her eyes. She took a step closer to them, hands tucked into her robes, but he could still sense her trembling hands without even seeing them. “I... forgive me. It would be very difficult for them to grow up in a place like this. The Ruins are really quite small once you get used to them.”

Papyrus wanted to drop to his knees he was so relieved, and he did his best to keep his bones from rattling. He let out a quiet sigh of disbelief, unable to quite grasp how much worse that could have gone.

“It really isn't so bad out there,” he patted her on the shoulder softly, and she gave him another one of those strange, tilted, sad little smiles.

“If there are others out there like you?” her fingertips touched the back of his hand. “Then... perhaps not.”

She wordlessly removed his hand from her shoulder, her own drooping a bit as she looked between the two.

“There is only one thing I need to request of the two of you,” she stood stooped before Frisk and wiped her eyes again. “Once you leave the Ruins, please...”

The silence was so thick that Papyrus could hang his coat on it.

“Do not come back.”

His soul sank into his chest at her words, the stinging pain made all the worse when she stopped to give them each a hug, Frisk first and then him. She enveloped him in such a warm, tender embrace that even though he didn't want to admit it, a small, tiny part of him almost _wished_ that he could just stay there, in that cozy, homely place, having pie and enjoying each other's company. Papyrus touched the back of his glove to his face to find his cheeks wet and he was quick to wipe his eye sockets, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

“... Thank you. Thank you, for everything,” Papyrus wished that he had brought his battle body instead of his old leather jacket, and wound up sticking his hands into the pockets. “I truly do hope that we can still be friends, Toriel.”

“... You should go,” she stated quietly, turning on the spot.

“But-”

“Before I change my mind,” she held up a hand to silence him, not even needing to look in his general direction to get her point across perfectly. “And please... forgive me for what I'm going to do.” He just nodded once even though she didn't see, and he held out a gloved hand to the human. Frisk took his phalanges in their own hand and gripped them tightly, staring up at him expectantly. Papyrus only sighed again and made his way down the hall. He turned to glance at her one last time, but the mysterious woman was already long since gone. So, he sucked in a breath, put both hands against the ancient stone door, and began pushing hard.

Toriel definitely had not been joking, there was _powerful_ magic entombed in this door; so much so that he really wouldn't have been surprised if destroying the thing could cause a cave in. And in a place like the Underground, a cave in was pretty much everyone's worst nightmare, and it made his bones rattle to no end to realize just how fortunate he was to have barely avoided one. The doors creaked open and then slammed shut behind them, the cool chilly breeze of Snowdin's forest washing over them as they simply stood in the snow. Papyrus ran a hand over his head once, not letting go of Frisk with the other.

“... Well,” he said at last with a single humorless laugh. “I think that went rather well.”

“I know,” Frisk nodded once. “She didn't even _try_ to kill you.”

“That's – oh my _god_, has she tried to harm you before?” several questions began rampaging through his head all at once, absolutely none of which he wanted answers to. And, despite his wants, Frisk only nodded their head once before looking away. He knelt down before them and took their hand in both of his.

“Oh my stars, I am so, _so_ sorry little one,” Papyrus empathetically patted their hand. It was painfully silent for what felt like hours before he gripped their hand tightly.

“I just want you to know how proud I am of you. Okay?” he gave them a small smile. “I know that must have been scary for you.”

“I could have done it myself,” Frisk shrugged and looked away. “Not like I haven't gotten past her on my own before.”

Papyrus did _not_ care for that particular train of thought, regardless of how loudly it was making itself known in his head.

“You are safe now, alright Frisk?” he patted them on the hand and they shrugged him off again. He stood fully and stretched his aching back, his knees popping off like shotguns as he did so. They walked together for a little while, crossing over the bridge that led to the sentry stations. “I will take care of you. I promised, didn't I?”

“What good is a promise anyway?” Frisk snorted, still not looking at him. “Promises get broken all the time. Eventually, everyone breaks their promises.”

“... I'm beginning to get the feeling that you have some trust issues,” Papyrus tapped his fingertips together. “Nyeh heh, but worry not! The Great Papyrus will help you overcome your issues! If there's one thing I'm good at, it's everything!”

“So do you make up for your lack of brains with confidence?” Frisk stared up at him. “Because you _must_ be compensating for something.”

Papyrus was about to give them a piece of his mind when he heard the worst sound he possibly could have. The crumbling of rock, the smashing of boulders, the rumbling crush of tons and tons of stone.

_Cave in._

Papyrus bolted back to the massive stone door, but he was already far too late. Hardly anything of the door remained, rock and debris piled around it, the etched sigil of the Delta Rune long since dissipated. He covered his mouth with his hand, eye sockets wide with horror as the reality of the situation caved in. That level of destruction couldn't just be on one side. That kind of magic had to have been performed up close.

_Forgive me for what I'm going to do._

Papyrus retched and leaned against the icy frozen wall, trying hard not to be sick. He didn't have to reach out with his magic to realize what had happened. The woman that had been so kind to them, that had made them tea and pie just a short while ago...

“... Y'alright?”

Papyrus held up a gloved finger, his teeth clenched tight. Then he took a few steps, leaned over a nearby bush, and immediately vomited. He hacked and coughed and shivered, though not from the cold. It took him nearly a minute to realize that said bush was the exact same one that Doctor Alphys had placed one of her hidden cameras in, and a wave of both guilt and nausea hit him.

“Sorry doc,” he mumbled and wiped his mouth with the crook of his arm. She likely wasn't going to like seeing that, and he sincerely hoped that the video cameras didn't provide a live feed. The guilt all came rushing back, the shame of his hurried retreat with the human. He should have _known_ better than to leave someone that obviously in pain all alone. Again. God, what kind of awful person _was_ he? That wasn't what a hero would do, running away with their tail between their legs. All he wanted to do was the right thing, protect people the best way he knew how.

And now...

She was gone.

The human stood behind him, patiently holding out a hand. He finally grasped it in his own, dragging his boots through the snow back towards the bridge that seemed miles away by now. But he knew better, now. Next time, he could make it work. Next time, he would make it better. Next time, he would be a hero.

But for now?

He could only try to light the path as the shadows drew in just a bit closer.

0-0-0-0-0


	18. Sideways

0-0-0-0-0

Unsurprisingly, Papyrus really wasn't much in the mood for puzzles that morning.

The odd pair walked in relative silence for a while, over the bridge and past the sentry stations. Papyrus wasn't altogether surprised to see that Sans still hadn't shown up, almost having forgotten about slipping that note under his door telling him to take the day off. But it would still be nice if his brother took some initiative now and then, the constant laziness was frustrating. Besides, he would much rather be thinking about that than his current failures. It had to have been something he did wrong, it had to have been his fault, it simply must have.

_Toriel would still be alive if it weren't for you._

Papyrus felt like being sick again but pushed the feeling down, marching quietly through the snow. He didn't think twice about skipping past the puzzles that he'd spent so much time setting up for the human. And apparently the human noticed too, because they released his hand as they stood before the invisible electricity maze. Everything had gone sideways today and it was all his fault. Because he was too impatient. Too rash. Too foolish to realize the consequences obvious to anyone that bothered to pay attention. The guilt washed over him in waves, and he  _hated_ it.

“... Aren't you going to make me go through the maze first?” Frisk pointed out at the clearing.

“What's the point,” he shrugged without looking at them. “You can just walk around it. Not like it matters.”

“Wow,” Frisk stared at him for a moment. “That really got to you back there, huh?”

“What do you think?” Papyrus turned to them tiredly, sticking his hands into his jacket pockets. “That poor woman is gone now. I-I should have, I should have-” he choked up, the tension in his chest growing painfully and the stinging in his eye sockets returning in full force. He wiped his face and found his hands wet, and he was quick to try to keep them from seeing him crying.

“Do you really think it matters?” they stated expressionlessly. 

“Of _course_ it matters-”

“But she'll be back tomorrow,” Frisk explained. “Like it never even happened. Nobody will remember anyway.”

“... We will,” Papyrus blinked as the realization set in, though it certainly wasn't helping. “We'll remember.”

“Do you want her to live?”

“Of course I do!” he blurted. He cleared his throat, not meaning to shout. “Of course. But-”

“Then don't come for me tomorrow.”

Papyrus could only stare at them for what felt like an hour.

“Little one,” he knelt down before them, putting an arm on his knee for support. “I can't just abandon you in there.”

“I thought you said you wanted her to live?”

“I do, but-”

“Then I'll get through without anyone dying,” Frisk shrugged. “It's not like it's hard. I can dodge all her moves by now anyway.”

“... How many times have you fought her?” Papyrus worriedly asked, not wanting the answer to that question at all.

“Enough,” Frisk stated simply. “Now calm down and quit crying, would you?”

“I wasn't crying,” he lied immediately, watching as they rolled their eyes.

“Do you want to do these puzzles or not?” their tone was impatient, and just a bit more than irritating. Like they were just trying to get through all of this as quickly as possible. For a moment, he almost did take them up on their offer, maybe it would help take his mind off of the travesty they'd left behind.

“... No,” he said at last, standing up straight and letting out a sigh before holding his hand out to them. “Not today. Let's... let's just get out of here.”

Frisk only nodded once and took his hand, and they continued along their way. Nobody stopped them during their journey to Snowdin, which Papyrus was silently grateful for. He  _really_ didn't want to have to explain to anyone that he had technically caused the death of a distressed, lonely old woman. Stars, what kind of an awful person  _was_ he? Frisk seemed to sense his grief, however, and gave his hand a small squeeze. In surprise, he clutched their hand back, meeting their blank stare with a small, weary smile. They showed no expression, but the simple act alone was a kindness, whether they knew it or not. It wasn't too late for them, and if all went well, maybe there was still a chance for a better tomorrow.

He just had to try a little harder.

“Sans?” Papyrus called out as he reached the front of his house, kicking some snow off of his boots before opening the door. “Brother, I'm home!”

“Oh hey Paps,” Sans leaned over the banister above him, stretching and yawning. “Wondered where-”

He fell silent immediately upon seeing the human standing beside him, and Papyrus mentally kicked himself as he took off his boots.

“Oh – brother, this is human Frisk,” he exclaimed quickly. “Human Frisk, this is my lazy brother Sans.”

“... So this is what you were doin' all morning,” Sans said after a moment, the lights in his eye sockets seeming strangely dim for a moment. “Heh, and I was just startin' to get a little _bonely_ all by myself.”

Papyrus groaned in disgust, pinching his nostril bone.

“_Please_ no more puns,” he begged, watching as Frisk didn't bother to take their wet shoes off and instead began poking their head around their kitchen. “Today _really_ isn't the day, brother.”

“So you finally caught a human, huh?” Sans descended the stairs quietly, looking him up and down. “How come you're dressed like that, Paps? Somethin' happen to your battle body?”

“I kind of just threw on the first thing I could find today,” he explained tiredly, arms drooping lifelessly at his sides.

“... Paps, you _never_ take that thing off,” he stated in blatant disbelief. “What's goin' on?”

Papyrus wanted to  _cry._

He wanted to tell him the truth, he wanted to shout it to the heavens, he wanted someone,  _anyone_ to know what he was going through.

But the last time he'd tried that hadn't ended very well. Not at all.

“... Brother,” Papyrus said after a stretch of silence, putting a single hand on the concerned shorter skeleton's shoulder. “I want you to know that no matter what, I love you. Okay?”

A light dusting of blush crept across Sans's cheeks, his eternal smile seeming strained for just a moment.

“I... heh. Love you too, bro,” Sans shook his head, unable to meet his gaze for a full beat. “Is everything okay with you?”

“Dandy,” Papyrus sighed, his exhausted bones feeling as though they were filled with lead. He started to speak again before a loud clattering and clashing came from the kitchen, and Papyrus flinched.

“That would be the human...” he ran a hand down his face. “I swear, they're like a magnet for trouble.”

“Where'd ya find 'em?” Sans asked as he followed his brother to the kitchen. Frisk was found standing on one of the wooden, rickety chairs and digging through one of the upper cabinets as if looking for something.

“Out past Snowdin,” he wasn't _technically_ lying, but he still felt that awful greasy sensation coating his soul as he did so. “Careful, little one, I don't want you to fall. What are you looking for?”

Frisk only held up a beaten metal pot, and he blinked.

“Oh,” he perked up a little. “Are you hungry?”

Frisk nodded once.

“I suppose I could whip something up for you,” he patted them on the head and helped them down from the chair before pushing it back against the table. “Would you like to cook with me?”

Frisk only nodded again.

“Well, first we're going to need to boil some water,” he filled up the pot in the sink and turned on the stove. “Would you hand me the spaghetti sauce in the refrigerator?”  
Frisk obeyed promptly, digging around for a moment before passing him a large glass jar. He thanked them silently and opened one of the upper cabinets, pulling out a box of noodles. At least if he wasn't going to run out of noodles any time soon, he could always use the time to perfect his cooking. 

“Next comes the noodles, we want them hot enough to simmer but not so much that they stick,” he explained, the human watching him carefully as he cooked. Sans only leaned against the door frame watching, and a dreadfully powerful sense of deja vu overwhelmed him all at once. He couldn't quite tell if he was speaking or if someone else was, there was _something_ wrong and he couldn't quite determine just what it was.

It might have been something to do with just how swiftly the floor had introduced itself to his head.

He could hear motion, he could smell sounds, he could taste  _time_ and copper and burning, feeling the horrifying beauty of thousands upon thousands of countless eyes all prying and watching from places between places-

“-uck, oh fuck Paps!” Sans was cradling his head, and Papyrus groaned and gently touched his pounding forehead. Frisk was dancing from foot to foot, watching him with a surprising amount of concern in their eyes.

“Oh. Good morning Sans,” Papyrus tried to say as calmly as he could. “So... come here often?”

“Shit, you-you, oh fuck-”

“Sans stop _swearing_,” Papyrus tried to sit up but was carefully pressed back down his brother. “That's all going right to the swear jar, I hope you've saved up mister.”

“Are you okay?” Sans ran a hand over his head and Papyrus touched the wetness at his nostril bone, pulling his hand away to discover dusty redness. He quickly wiped his face with his elbow and nodded once.

“Everything is fine,” he insisted, standing up fully. “I just... I must have slipped or something-”

“You're _bleeding,_” Frisk stared at him, and he reached around the counter top for a hand towel and quickly wiped his face with it. “How does a skeleton bleed?”

“Is the spaghetti alright?”

And much to his surprise, Sans just started  _laughing._

“... What?” Papyrus crossed his arms, mildly offended.

“_That's_ your concern,” Sans shook his head. “Hoo, boy, bro. You've got some skewed priorities.”

“And... it's burned,” he sighed as he took the spaghetti off of the stove. “Fantastic.”

“Are you _sure_ you're okay?” his brother reached out carefully to touch his arm, and Papyrus nodded once.

“I'll be fine, brother, don't worry,” he shrugged it off and tried to smile a bit wider, despite the pain in his head and the ache in his chest. “I'm just a little clumsy today is all.”

“Bullshit,” Sans stated promptly. “Paps, somethin' _weird_ is going on with you,” Sans stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, staring him down, and Papyrus suddenly felt like an insect being inspected under a microscope. “You dress all weird like this, you're actin' fine even when you look like you're about ta fall down, and you bring this _human_ here,” he threw out an arm to Frisk, who was looking quite a bit more uncomfortable being under his scrutiny. “What did they do to you, Paps?”

“What?” Papyrus balked at him. “Brother, they haven't done anything to me, it's _fine_-”

“Like _hell_ it's fine!” Sans stamped a slippered foot against the floor. “Did they say somethin' to ya? What'd they say, what did the little shit do?”

“That's _enough!_” Papyrus's voice boomed loudly enough to shake the windows, and he regretted it immediately. He'd never seen Sans back down so rapidly from anything, that clench of _fear_ on his face, and it made all the guilt and strain in his soul come rushing all right back to the surface.

Papyrus pinched his nostril bone and sighed before rubbing his face a couple of times, uncertain of how to tread such murky waters.

“... There was a cave in today,” he explained at last. The shock on his brother's face was apparent, and he wouldn't stop staring at him. “There were... I think some people were lost, Sans.”

“God...” Sans ran a hand over the top of his head before quietly sticking his hands back in his pockets. “Shit, bro. I... I didn't know. How... how many?”

“I don't know,” Papyrus admitted. “It was behind that old door at the edge of the forest.”

The look of dawning  _horror_ on his features were the most prominent, but what was even worse was when it drained away. Back to that constant, tired, pained little smile, pretending that everything was okay when it very much wasn't. It hurt in ways that Papyrus didn't want to fully comprehend.

“... Let's just forget the spaghetti,” Papyrus shifted after a painfully long stretch of silence. He dumped the ruined pasta in the trash, tossing the dirtied pot into the sink to wash later. “I'm not really in the mood for cooking right now anyway.”

“Cool,” Sans mumbled before looking up at him. “I'm, uh... I'm gonna go to Grillby's. You want anything?”

“Nothing for me,” he patted Frisk on the head, who smacked his hand away in irritation. “But something for the little one would be nice.”

“Alright, bro. I'll... I won't be gone long.”

“Please come home sober?”

Sans looked as if he had just been backhanded. Papyrus wanted to go back in time right then and punch himself in the head to keep from saying it, but it was far too late. Sans only swallowed dryly and nodded once.

“... Sure,” he shrugged and headed out the door. “Be back soon, Paps.”

And with that he was gone, leaving the two of them alone in the house.

Papyrus sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. God, it was barely even noon and his day was already going sideways. Today really had been one of the worst days he'd had so far during these... reruns? Resets? What was he even supposed to call them?

“Why did you stick up for me?”

Papyrus blinked and realized that he had just been standing there in silence, mulling over his thoughts.

“What?”

“Why did you do that?” Frisk repeated. “You didn't have to stick up for me. You could have thrown me under the bus and it wouldn't have gone so bad. So... why?”

Papyrus only sighed again, his shoulders drooping.

“Well, I wouldn't be a very good friend if I did that, now would I?” he answered quietly, and though that didn't seem to satisfy them they didn't speak again for what felt like ages. Papyrus poked around the kitchen until he found a bag of popcorn, tossing it into the microwave for a few minutes and leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed one over the other until it was finished. Frisk only waited patiently until he was done and he pulled the steaming bag out, pouring it all into a large bowl and motioning for them to follow. Frisk did so wordlessly and he flicked on the television, one of Mettaton's cooking shows drowning out the awful silence.

“So...” he said after a moment, putting the bowl between them and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “I guess I was originally supposed to take you to Undyne,” Papyrus didn't really have any urge whatsoever to eat any popcorn, though the human seemed to have taken a liking to it quickly. “Have... have you met her before?”

“Oh, yeah,” Frisk answered calmly, and that sinking sensation crept back into his soul. “She's killed me loads of times.”

Papyrus wanted to be sick.

“I... I see,” he murmured. “Well, I suppose taking you to see her today wouldn't be such a good idea, huh?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Frisk said calmly, eating another handful of popcorn. “This stuff is pretty good, how'd you get popcorn down here anyway?”

“Can we just talk for a second,” Papyrus rubbed his temples. “About how _nonchalant_ you are about how often you get killed?”

“Eh,” Frisk shrugged without looking up at him once. “After you get used to it, it really isn't so bad. Dying is easy. Life is hard.”

“Oy gavolt, tell me about it,” he pinched his nostril bone for a moment. “I'm still extremely uncomfortable with the idea of you being in danger.”

“Why do you care?” Frisk finally stared up at him. “Nobody just _does_ that. So what's in it for you? What's the point?”

“The point?” he blinked a couple of times. “There doesn't _have_ to be a point. I still care.”

“Why bother?”

“Because _someone_ has to,” he stated firmly, and all of a sudden Frisk wouldn't look at him anymore. “Someone _has_ to care. And no matter how many times we do this day over, I am going to keep caring, keep trying, because tomorrow can _always_ be better than today.”

Frisk finally looked up at him after a while, and it bothered him that it was with that same quiet, sad, knowing little smile that Miss Toriel had given him.

“You really are completely insane.”

“Maybe,” Papyrus rolled his shoulders a couple times. “I like to think of myself as fun and quirky.”

“I think you're clinically quirky and need to be institutionalized.”

Papyrus just snorted and took a piece of popcorn, tossing it into his mouth. 

“Tomato, to-mah-to.”

“Who the fuck says _to-mah-to_?”

“Pfft. Hell if I know.”

And for just a little while, even if this was the closest to solace that he could get, things didn't seem quite so bad.

0-0-0-0-0


	19. Rage Against The Machine

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus wasn't entirely certain at which point he'd fallen asleep on the couch, nor was he entirely sure of when he'd woken. He felt trapped between states, both here and there and everywhere, drifting along a stream and unable to do anything other than follow the current. It was a very peculiar strain of consciousness to be aware of, though some part of him instinctively knew that it was late. He glanced at the tall figure in the corner standing with their back to him-

He blinked awake, fully conscious now; he could have _sworn_ that he had just seen a shadowy person _lurking_ in the corner, silently watching him, his soul was pounding so fast that he could hear it in his head. He gave himself a little shake, staring long and hard at the corner of the room despite the fact that it was clearly empty. He felt wary of turning away from the spot lest the figure return the moment he glanced elsewhere, and mentally shook himself free of the cobwebs of paranoia currently filling his head. The flickering dim light of the muted television show cast shadows over the room, he must have just been seeing things in his half wakeful state.

Papyrus let his eye sockets adjust to the darkness a bit more and he noted the human silent and slumbering on the couch beside him. When they weren't trying to murder him to death, they were actually kind of adorable. He patted them gently on the head and they stirred momentarily, and Papyrus quietly stood and left them only to return with a small blanket that he lay over them. He slipped away and stepped outside, stealthily closing the door behind him. The cold, soft breeze helped to wake him a little bit more, at least. He rummaged around in his pockets, not being used to wearing anything other than his battle body for so long. He did find what he was looking for eventually though, and pulled his phone out. It was nearly midnight by the time on the digital clock, and he was certain that Sans would have woken him when he returned. If he had returned at all. He was tempted to call his older brother, and chewed his tongue as he thought it over. No, Sans wasn't a little babybones. He could take care of himself. But that didn't make him worry any less, quite the opposite in fact. He regretted the way he'd outright shouted as his brother earlier; he wouldn't be surprised if Sans was angry with him, he deserved to be. Papyrus pinched the bridge of his nostril bone and tried to clear his muddled mind.

The day still hadn't rerun, and it was around half an hour to midnight, a little less. So that begged the question that he still had no answer to – exactly what would happen if he was awake and aware when the next reset occurred? What time would it happen, if it happened at all? Did the human have to be awake too? Would they possibly make it through to tomorrow if he made sure not to accidentally wake them? Or were they just as helpless as he was to the whims of time?

He had so many _questions_, and not enough answers to go around. So Papyrus resisted the urge to crawl into bed and instead made his way back inside, carefully closing the door behind him. He picked up the television remote and flicked it off, giving Frisk one last concerned glance before sneaking off to the kitchen. He stumbled in the dark and turned the light on, eventually busying himself with making coffee. He absolutely detested the stuff, but he wanted to at least be awake. He checked his phone again with unease, the urge to call his brother and apologize profusely for his behavior growing, but he pushed it down with all of the other problems demanding his attention. At the very least, it could wait until tomorrow.

The coffee didn't take long to make, and this time he tried adding a bit of sugar; not too much, not too little. It certainly wasn't very sweet, still bitter and strong, but at least it worked. He blinked a few times and shook his head, downing the entire cup in one go. He dropped the mug on the counter top and refilled it, repeating the process all over again. He didn't think he was ever going to get used to the taste of coffee, nor did he want to. But the way some people seemed to like it, maybe there was a bit of art to preparing it properly, like spaghetti. The two didn't sound like a very good mix. His mind wandered back to that phantasm, the illusion that had been staring at him from the corner in the dark, and he felt the sudden compulsion to start reaching into the corners of the room just to make sure that there was nobody there. He gave himself a quick shake to make sure that he was still awake, feeling both a bit paranoid and unstable. He was being silly, there were no ghosts lurking around here. Most of them stayed in Waterfall anyway, what would they be doing creeping around his living room? That didn't make any sense at all.

Papyrus was back out the door after a final cup of coffee, checking the time. Not much longer until midnight. He mentally scrolled through the list of phone numbers he'd memorized until he got to Doctor Alphys's. He punched in the buttons and held the cell phone to his head, waiting and waiting for someone to answer. After the fourth time he called, someone finally answered.

“... Hullo?” the sleepy tone met him on the doorstep, and he sat down with a sigh.

“Good afternoon, Doctor Alphys?” he asked, knowing full well who it was.

“Is this P-Papyrus?”

“Speaking,” he nodded, feeling a bit silly for doing so when she couldn't even see him. “Do you have a pen and pad of paper nearby?”

“Wh- yeah?” Alphys muttered, sounding very much as if she had just woken up. He could relate. “Wh-why is that?”

“I need you to write down a number for me. The first number that comes to mind.”

“O-okay...?”

“Got it?”

“Yeah, but-”

Papyrus recited the memorized number, and almost felt the chill as the silence sank in.

“... How did you do that?” Alphys sounded _much_ more awake now. “What's going on?”

“I have a problem,” Papyrus fidgeted with the hem of his leather jacket. “This is going to sound _nuts,_ but I am reliving the exact same day over and over. We've had this conversation over eight times now.”

“Papyrus, th-that's-”

“Only a theoretical possibility of recursive photonic imbalance,” he finished her sentence before she could. “That is what you were going to say, am I right?”

“... Oh my god,” he heard the sudden sound of tapping keys and fumbling. “O-oh my god, _how_-”

“I have no idea,” he shrugged. “But you are the smartest person I know, Doctor Alphys. If anyone can figure this out, it's probably you.”

“W-well, that's v-very flattering of you,” Alphys sounded as though she were shifting in discomfort, something he'd come to recognize as something she seemed to do a lot while on the phone. “B-but I haven't got the sl-slightest clue of h-how to break a time loop – I am b-_barely_ competent with linear time as it is,” she said in a jesting manner, and he couldn't help but smile a little.

“I believe in you, Doctor,” he closed his eye sockets for a moment, desperately wishing that his headache would just dissipate. “It might take a while, but I think that there is a way to do it. There's _always_ an answer if you look hard enough for it, there's no lock without a key, no puzzle without a solution.”

An uneasy prickle began to form at the base of his neck, though he couldn't quite determine why. He felt almost as if he were being watched, and couldn't quite shake the sensation off. It was dead silent as he sat on the porch, readjusting the phone to the side of his head.

“... Doctor Alphys?” his own voice sounded muffled to him, and all he could hear on the phone line was static. “... Al-Alphys?” He pulled the phone away for a moment and tried again, once more hearing only static. But when he shut the cell phone off in confusion, he still heard the rumble of static, growing louder and louder inside his head like an infernal screaming chaotic chorus-

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus sat bolt upright in bed, the alarm clock beeping obnoxiously. He slapped his face a couple of times, his soul pounding like a drum in his chest. He clumsily shut off the alarm and swung his legs out of bed, silently noting that he was in pajamas. Another quick check told him all he needed to know.

Tuesday.

He sighed and rubbed the sides of his head, letting out a small irritated groan through his teeth. And of course, of _course,_ he still had a throbbing headache. Naturally. He made a mental note to not try to stay awake for the next reset, it felt as though he'd been punched all over his body. Did he _always_ hurt like this when he woke up? Stars and stones, he felt _terrible_. Maybe he was coming down with something. But he pushed off that train of thought, his mind a jumble as he dressed. His battle body hung in the closet and he was swift to don it this time, the human's words coming back to him. Sure, they _said_ that nobody would get hurt, but who was to say that was a fact and not an opinion?

No, he decided as he slipped on his gloves and laced up his boots. Human Frisk had made a promise to him. They wouldn't break his trust like that, it's not something a friend would do.

_Eventually, everyone breaks their promises._

Papyrus stared himself down in the mirror. He had a chance to make things right today, he had to do better. There were lines under his eye sockets, his shoulders were drooped, his smile was strained and weary. He looked downtrodden in a way he didn't even realize he knew of. No wonder Sans had been so worried about him yester-today. He crept off to the bathroom and washed his face in the sink, drying himself with a hand towel and steadying his breath, a plan of action already forming. Today, he was going to make the change happen. Today, he would make it  _his_ day, not just a day that he got dragged along for the ride. Today, he was going to do better than his best before.

He  _promised._

“Sans?” he shouted as he made his way up the stairs, pounding on his brother's bedroom door a few times. “Sans, wake up you lazybones!”

“What day izzit?” Sans poked his head out through the doorway, looking as if he hadn't slept at all. An ache in his chest rang out and he started to tell off his brother before biting his tongue.

“... Sans, are you alright?”

“Yeh – yeah, of course, bro,” he answered with some hesitation, his eye lights growing just a bit brighter and wider. “Whassup?”

“Today is the day, Sans!” he planted his fists on his hips with determination. “Today is the day we finally catch a human!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah!” Papyrus slammed his fist into his palm. “We are going to _crush_ today, I just _know_ it!”

“Man, you sound really pumped,” Sans smiled just a little wider. “Maybe you can catch one for me too, huh?”

“Oh ho, _no,_” Papyrus grabbed his shoulder as he tried to turn away back into his room. “You,” he poked him hard in the chest, “are going to have some breakfast, and actually get to your sentry station on _time_ today, got it buster?”

“Whoo, okay, pullin' out the big guns for today, huh?” Sans said after a moment of quiet. “What makes ya so sure a human will even come through?”

“Let's just say I have a little friend,” he pinched his thumb and forefinger close together. “That is _very_ good with predictions.”

“Oh,” Sans stared up at him, emotion draining from his smile. “And what friend is this? Have I met 'em yet?”

“Well... maybe?” Papyrus shrugged one shoulder. “I mean, he's easy to miss, he's a very friendly little flower fellow. He's in my fan club,” he admitted proudly. Sans just stared and stared before finally covering his mouth and snickering.

“... What's so funny?”

“You have a _fan club?_” Sans grinned wider. “Is that what ya beat your fans off with?”

“I'll have you know I haven't had to beat anyone off in at least a week – what is so funny _now_?”

Sans couldn't even answer properly for lack of breathing, his myriad of giggles the only thing he could manage. Papyrus just watched in confusion, scratching the back of his head as Sans hysterically tried to stop laughing.

“Anyway,” he shifted awkwardly for a second as the laughter quieted down. “I'm going to see Undyne before going to my post today, so that should give you plenty of time to properly prepare your puzzles.”

“Ah, I'm sure your puzzles are plenty though,” Sans rolled his shoulders, throwing on his jacket and following his brother downstairs to the kitchen. “Probably stump some humans real good with 'em.”

“Mostly...” Papyrus set about making breakfast spaghetti, boiling some water and adding the noodles. “I think one still has some kinks.”

“Gross. The less I know about your kinks, the better.”  
“Sans for _FIVE MINUTES,_ COULD YOU _NOT-_”

Sans only laughed again and shook his head in silence, dropping into the chair at the table and kicking his feet up. Papyrus promptly smacked his slippers off with one hand, careful not to burn anything this time.

“Feet off the table,” he stated firmly. “How many times do I have to tell you, Sans?”

Sans made a show of counting very slowly on each of his phalanges, then held up both hands.

“Seven,” Sans said as seriously as he'd ever seen him. Papyrus only groaned and finished up with his latest creation, ladling them both some spaghetti. He caught his brother drinking from a ketchup bottle and visibly winced.

“That is _disgusting_ Sans,” he harrumphed as he placed the full plate before him. “Condiments are for _adding_ to a dish, not as a _drink_.”

“Hey, don't knock it 'til ya try it,” Sans held out the bottle to him. “Wanna share?”

“I'd rather ask out _Jerry_ on a date than drink that garbage,” Papyrus scowled, or at the very least tried to. It was difficult to do. Sans just shrugged and, before he could be stopped, promptly squirted ketchup all over his spaghetti.

“_WHY_-” Papyrus blurted in despair. “Why would you _ruin _perfectly good spaghetti like this?!”

“I thought ya said ketchup was to be added to a dish?” Sans smirked at him before taking a bite, and Papyrus openly cringed. “See? Now it's even better.”

“You are revolting,” Papyrus sighed and wrapped his spaghetti to be stored in the refrigerator for later. “You're revolting and I have lost my appetite, thanks for that.”

“Anytime, bro.”

“Alright,” he checked the time, noting that he still had nearly an hour before the human came through, if his timing was correct. He threw his scarf on and carefully pulled his gloves a bit tighter. “I'm training with Undyne, get to your post on time, don't leave a dumb cardboard cutout of yourself there this time I _know_ the difference, Sans. That thing is _creepy._”

“Hey!” Sans said in faux offense. “I'll have you know Sansequin is perfectly good human bait,” he gestured down to his stained shirt with a grin. “Who _wouldn't _wanna go to the bone zone?”

“I'm leaving before I actually vomit,” Papyrus deadpanned. Sans only shook his head and laughed again, and despite his best efforts, he actually felt the pull of a smile of his own forming. He patted his brother once on the head before leaving, the cold air refreshing and breezy.

“Don't be late!” he called back, but when he looked into the house he saw no sign of his brother anywhere. Maybe he really had taken the advice to heart and would show up to his sentry station on time. He doubted it, but it was a nice thought. A real bit of effort would always be appreciated. Maybe he could show his brother what he thought of him with a nice hot meal. Perhaps after he'd caught the human today he could whip something up. But for now, he had to stick to the plan. Today _would_ be a good day, he would make it good one way or another.

And knowing how his luck had been lately, it would likely be another.

0-0-0-0-0

Waterfall wasn't too difficult to traverse, if one knew where the driest parts were.

Unfortunately, Papyrus was not one of those people.

He drained the water from his boots for the third time in a row, disgruntled and damp as he neared Undyne's house. He was beginning to regret not taking the ferry to Waterfall, but the exercise was good for his health. It was smart to stay in shape.

_She's killed me loads of times._

Papyrus frowned as he kept up his march, evening out his long strides to a quick but steady pace. Obviously there was something about Undyne that would have caused them to have such an experience with her. Maybe it was her zealous nature, Undyne wasn't one to give up easily, especially when it meant that the whole Underground could be freed with soul power.

_They, Asgore... will kill you._

His brows furrowed as he made his way through the past the dump, the sound of rushing water filling the air. He had personally met the king once before, and sure, he was a little intimidating at first; but he was such a nice person, so very friendly and kind! Why on earth would King Asgore want to hurt the human, what was the point? Why had Toriel been so  _sure_ that the human meeting him was a death wish? But then again, why would  _Undyne_ of all people kill Frisk? Something wasn't adding up, and it bothered him deeply when he didn't have all the pieces of the puzzle. There was something that just wasn't right, something he was  _missing_ , and the knowledge that he just didn't have enough knowledge was enough to drive him up the wall.

He waved to a little gray monster in a striped shirt that was staring right through him-

And just like that, they were gone.

Papyrus stood stock still in shock and surprise,  _certain_ that he had just seen someone standing on the edge of one of Waterfall's cliffs, the short monster with wide black eyes. And the moment he realized he was looking at them, they  _vanished_ .

Just like the tall figure in the corner.

Just like those little yellow sparks.

“... Hello?” he spoke aloud, suddenly feeling much more alone than he did before. But of course, nobody answered. He heard the soft tinkling of a music box emanating from somewhere and he gave himself a shake. There were numerous possibilities here. Either he was under so much stress that he was beginning to experience visual hallucinations, someone was playing an elaborate prank, or he was starting to see things that maybe he shouldn't. A prickle of fear rose up in his chest and he was quick to quash it, forcing himself onward towards Undyne's abode. He could figure it out later. Right now, he had a plan to stick to. He pulled out the gift he'd made on the way there.

He straightened up his battle body and stood a little taller, knocking a few times on the front door to  Undyne's place. After a few seconds the front door opened up, Undyne rubbing her eye with her fist.

“Good morning Undyne!” he held out the little bone he'd made, complete with a neat little ribbon. “Got you something!”

“Oh,” she sounded as if she had just woken up, wearing only jeans and a tank top. “Uh. Thanks, Paps. I'll, uh... put it with the others.”

“May I come in?” he asked politely and she nodded, making her way over to the counter drawer and tossing the bone in with an array of others still tightly tied off with bows.

“Somethin' up, Papyrus?” Undyne yawned. “How come you're here so early? It's not even a training day, you know that, right?”

“I know,” he closed the door behind him, tapping his fingers together uncomfortably. “Actually, you might want to take a seat,” he nodded toward the table. “There are some...  _ things _ I need to ask you about.”

“Oh,” her eye widened in surprise, her eyebrows shooting up. “Oh crap, is it time for the birds and the bees talk-?”

“No no no, not that!” he blurted, feeling a blush creep across his cheeks. “It's, nyeh heh, something a bit more complicated.”

“... Why don't I make us some tea or something?” Undyne dug around her cabinets for a second until she pulled out a box and shining tea kettle in one go.

“Sure,” Papyrus shrugged, wishing that he hadn't skipped breakfast. All the worry and stress was ruining his appetite anyway, and he felt the compulsion to go back to Snowdin to pick up some cinnamon bunnies. Just one more impulse to push away.

Undyne finished making the tea and set a steaming teacup before him, and he noted that it looked a bit like a carving of a little smiling lizard. Cute.

It took him a bit to realize that he was just staring down at his tea, Undyne absolutely silent as she waited for him.

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat uneasily, taking a sip of his scalding tea. “I'm just not really sure how to talk about this, so... I have some questions.”

“I got answers,” Undyne gave him one of those huge grins of hers and leaned back on her stool, twirling her teacup around for a moment. “Seriously, dude. What's on your mind?”

“Undyne, have you ever met a human before?”

Her smile slowly faded, her expression growing grim. She only stared at him for a few seconds before ever so slowly reaching up and gently tapping her eye patch.

“... Yeah. Once.”

Papyrus wasn't really sure of how to handle that particular bit of information.

“... Has Asgore been killing humans?”

Undyne balked at him in shock, her mouth opening and closing a couple of times before tightening into a sharp, thin line.

“Where... where'd you hear that?” Undyne was  _ never _ this quiet, it made him wary.

“Answer the question.”

Undyne only stared at him wordlessly, but her silence spoke volumes on its own.

“... I see.”

“Is everything okay, Paps?” Undyne asked after a minute, putting down her untouched tea and interlocking her fingers. “Listen, humans are  _ dangerous _ , okay? They're  _ killing machines _ .”

“All humans, huh?” he stared her down. “Every single one?”

“W-well, yeah, but-”

“I believe that your perception of humans might be a bit warped.”

“... Was that a sight joke?” Undyne's lips twitched. “Because if that was intentional, I'mma kick your ass.”

Papyrus only let out a breath through his nostril bone and shook his head, looking away.

“I didn't mean it like that,” he shifted. “I'm... I'm sorry about what happened. I don't know how it happened or why, but I'm sure that not all humans are bad, Undyne.”

“What's gotten into you lately?” she pried slowly. “You're never like this Papyrus, you look...”

“What?” he leaned forward a bit.

“Tired,” she finished quietly. “You look  _ tired _ .”

“I  _ am, _ ” he sighed and rubbed his temples. “God, Undyne. It's been absolutely  _ insane _ lately. I'm... I'm  _ exhausted _ .”

“Why don't you take the day off, Paps?” Undyne said when he didn't look back up at her. “Get some rest-”

“I can't do that,” he insisted. “Today is the day that a human comes through. I need to be ready.”

“You seem awfully positive that a human will show up. Is that what's gotten you all twisted up lately?”

“One of many things,” he leaned on his elbow, putting his chin in his hand. “I've also been seeing things that aren't there, I think I'm starting to lose my mind, and I'm reliving the same day over and over again.”

“... Paps that sounds like depression,” Undyne showed a surprising amount of concern. “If you're stuck in a rut, maybe-”

“No no, you misunderstand,” he folded his gloved hands one over another. “I mean I am  _ literally _ reliving the exact same day again, every single day. I haven't talked to you in almost two weeks.”

“... You were just here the other day,” Undyne was giving him one of  _ those _ looks, the kind that said he was clearly off his rocker.

“You want me to prove it?” Papyrus asked tiredly. “I've been working with Doctor Alphys on figuring this out. Tell me something that only you would know, something that nobody else really knows; and the next time we have this conversation, I can prove to you that I'm not crazy.”

“I-I didn't say you were  _ crazy, _ ” Undyne glanced away. It was pretty clear what she thought of him though, and it made an awful pain flare up in his soul to know it. 

“... How exactly did you get that eye patch?”

Undyne stiffened suddenly.

“... Defending King Asgore with my life,” she said after a moment. However, Papyrus just kept staring at her, and she eventually shifted in discomfort under his scrutinizing gaze. “... Got shot in the face.”

“Ouch,” he flinched.

“Yeah, hurt like hell,” she tapped the side of her head. “Lucky he was a bad crack shot, took forever to heal.”

“And nobody else knows that?”

“Just King Asgore.”

“Then I'll tell you when I see you tomorrow. Today. What  _ will _ be today – oy vey, it's confusing,” Papyrus pinched the bridge of his nostril bone. “The point is, I'll prove that I'm not just going bonkers.”

“What does any of this have to do with a human though-?” she started. “Wait, Paps, did you catch a human already?”

“Not yet,” he steadily drank down the still burning hot tea. Golden flower tea. Again. He was beginning to notice a pattern here. He finished it off and put the teacup down on the table carefully. “I need to get back to Snowdin, I'm running out of time. You should get in touch with Doctor Alphys,” Papyrus stood and pushed his stool in. “She talks about you a lot, you know.”

Undyne didn't answer, but her cheeks did glow just a little bit.

“You want me to come with you?” Undyne asked quietly as she stood as well. He very nearly accepted her offer, but the human's words came drifting back to him. 

“... I'll be fine on my own,” he put a hand on her shoulder. “Thanks for the talk Undyne, I... I really needed that.”

“You  _ sure _ you're okay though?”

“Yeah,” he nodded once, forcing a weary smile. “I think I will be. I'll see you tomorrow, Undyne.”

“Later, Paps,” she gave him that look again as he left, he could feel it boring a hole in the back of his head and resisted the urge to rub it. The door closed automatically behind him and he stood on the front step for a full minute, just letting his mind wander as he tried to retain as much information as he possibly could about their chat. He would need it for the next step in his plan, and if all went well he would be one step closer to solving this impossible puzzle. He began his steady march back toward Snowdin, intending to run after he passed the small pond not to far away from Undyne's place. He stared at his reflection in the water, the trembling of his bones apparent in the pond surface clear as glass.

“Howdy!”

Papyrus jerked and stood straighter, looking around for the familiar voice.

“Oh – there you are, Flowey!” he perked up a little, kneeling down to be closer to his little friend's line of sight. “Do you really have to pop up right between my feet every time? I'm always afraid I'll step on you, little one, it makes me worry.”

“Aww, how sweet of you,” Flowey winked and stuck out his tongue. “You don't have to worry about your old pal Flowey, I'm a lot tougher than I look you know. So, how was your little pow wow with Undyne?”

Papyrus had a sneaking suspicion that Flowey would already know the answer to that, and wondered momentarily if he really had been watched the whole time.

“Not great,” he shifted his weight from foot to foot. “You saw all of it, didn't you?”

“Hey, you're finally catching on,” Flowey tittered. “I see all  _ sorts _ of things, Papyrus. Didn't you know that?”

“It's pretty much stalking at this point,” he admitted. Flowey just shook his head with a smile that was a little too wide. “What are you even doing here in Waterfall, Flowey?”

“Well, looking for  _ you _ , silly!” he bounced on his stem. “I thought I should come find you right away after I saw that human come through-”

“Wait,  _ what?! _ ”

“Oh yeah,” Flowey continued calmly as the panic spiked in Papyrus's soul, he was so  _ sure _ that he had more time, where had he gone wrong? “Golly, what a piece of work. Left a trail of destruction like you wouldn't  _ believe _ .”

“I have to go!” Papyrus blurted and stood quickly. 

“You should hurry,” Flowey kept that same empty smile trained on him. “Last I saw, they were headed  _ right _ toward Snowdin. Who  _ knows _ what kind of trouble they could be making...?”

“I'll talk to you later!” he shouted as he slammed one foot down after another, forcing a burst of magic through his bones and increasing his speed. His legs were a blur as he pumped his arms, his breathing heavy and labored as he made his way as quickly as he could toward the ferry, which fortunately wasn't too far away, but he was still half worn out and breathless by the time he got there.

“... Where to?” the boat person's cloaked figure tilted in his direction as he practically threw himself onto the ferry.

“Snowdin!” he did his best to catch his breath. “We need to get to Snowdin, fast!”

They nodded and the stationary little boat took off with a burst of magic, soaring down the river back towards his home with a speed he hadn't really been expecting. He clung to the side of the ferry as tightly as he could, feeling ill that had little to do with the motion of the boat. The panicked screaming inside his head wasn't helping matters in the slightest, and all he could do was hang on and desperately hope that things weren't too far gone down the drain for him to repair. The only thing he heard was the sound of his own soul thrumming loudly, and the ever so quiet whisper that he just barely heard from the riverperson. Something that made his bones prickle. Something that made a nostalgic pain in his head begin to ring, just so slightly.

_ Beware the man that speaks in hands. _

0-0-0-0-0

Snowdin was always a quiet little town.

But it was never  _ this _ quiet.

Papyrus thanked the riverperson quickly as he disembarked the boat and bounded off where Ice Wolf was usually at work tossing cubed blocks of ice into the river to send to Hotland, but there was nobody there this time. The family of blobs hanging around outside their home was gone without a trace, and the fearful worry that was almost strangling him kept him pushing forward. Nobody was standing around outside the library, nobody talking and joking outside of Grillby's. He poked his head into the establishment to find it devoid of life, there were  _ always _ people at Grillby's. It was a popular pub no matter the time of day, and he bit his tongue as he rushed off to the library.

Empty.

“Oh god, oh god, oh  _ god, _ ” he rambled to himself as he bolted off towards his house. Maybe everyone was somewhere else, he  _ had _ to cling to the hope that everything was going to be okay, because if he gave in to the sinking panic he knew he wasn't going to climb out of it easily.

“Sans?” Papyrus shouted as he threw open the door. “Brother, are you here?”

But nobody came.

He left immediately, the frantic worry clinging to him like spiderwebs as he ran as fast as he could through Snowdin, hoping to find someone,  _ anyone;  _ this was all his fault, he shouldn't have left the human on their own, he could have  _ sworn  _ that he had more time. Where had he gone wrong? What did he do to cause this, where had he messed up? It must have been something he did, or something he  _ didn't _ do, and the fact that he was too panicked to think it through bothered him... but not as much as finding the little general store at the edge of Snowdin completely empty.

Almost.

Splayed across the counter top was a half written note.

Covered in a trail of dust.

Papyrus wanted to  _ puke _ .

He couldn't seem to breathe properly anymore. His head was spinning and he forced himself back out into the cold before he lost it all over the floor. He wanted to cry, he wanted to  _ scream _ , but he had to keep it together. He  _ needed _ to focus, no matter how much it felt like his soul was breaking in half he had to keep going. He whipped out his phone as he ran in the other direction, looking for someone, anyone. He called Sans again and again, but nobody answered. The worry only grew as he ran, stuffing the phone back into his battle body. Sans could still be here somewhere, he wanted to much to just look into Grillby's to find him slacking off again; and he had sent him off to his sentry station  _ alone _ , good lord, what was he  _ thinking? _ He put his own brother in danger, actually trusted the human to keep their word, and this was where it got him.

Snowdin should never have been this empty.

Thick fog from Waterfall crept up the ground like milky white snakes, wrapping around his ankles and growing thicker as he pressed onward. Nobody answered his calls, no one replied to his muffled shouts, he had rarely felt so completely and utterly alone.

“... Papyrus?”

He spun on the spot and peered through the fog to see them standing there, their head tilted just a bit to the side. They clung to a stick with one hand and stared up at him, giving him a quizzical stare.

“What did you do?” Papyrus's fists clenched tightly.

“I don't know what you mean,” Frisk stated before they were cut off by the intense  _ burst _ of magic that Papyrus only barely managed to restrain, summoned bone club in his hand gripped so tightly that it was begging to splinter at the end.

“What. Did. You.  _ Do,” _ Papyrus repeated, an icy, painful anger swarming through his chest and roaring for release. A feeling that he wasn't used to. Something vicious and violent and primal. Overwhelming, burning  _ rage. _

“You  _ promised _ . Now answer. The goddamned  _ question.  _ What. Have. You.  _ Done?” _

0-0-0-0-0


	20. Still Alive

0-0-0-0-0

_Toriel would still be alive if it weren't for you._

_Everyone would still be here._

_It's all your fault._

_My fault._

Frisk did not answer for the longest time. They only stood there in the snow, staring up at him as if in confusion, and their blank gaze wasn't helping. Papyrus's breathing was heavy and labored both from his running and his intense attempts to keep himself in check, and it was no easy matter. The frustration, the _anger_ that coursed through him was so overwhelming, so _massive _that it threatened to overtake everything that burned through his head. But he had to stand his ground, had to stay focused, because if he slipped up for even a moment, he knew for a fact that things were going to just keep going downhill from there and there was nothing that he could do to stop it.

Papyrus didn't think that he had ever been this furious, no longer afraid, this outright outraged, this _angry._

Everyone that he had lived with was gone.

Everyone he knew and loved.

His brother.

His friends.

His neighbors.

Grillby.

Bunni.

Sans.

“I'm only going to ask one more time. What. Did. You. _Do._”

“I didn't-”

“Don't you _lie_ to me,” he outright _growled_, and surprisingly the human actually _backpedaled _a couple of steps in shock, crimson eyes widening just a bit. “You actually expect me to believe that you didn't have _anything_ to do with this?” he cast out an arm to the empty town, dust blowing in the wind. The fog crept in just a bit closer, he could feel magic surging through his body and his hand wrenched so hard at the summoned bone in his hand that it _cracked. _He cast it aside in the river and watched it float away, grinding his hands into tight fisted balls at his side, turning his enraged gaze to the human, who seemed wise enough to be wary of him at least. His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles popped.

“I _really_ don't know what's going on...!” Frisk started slowly, holding up one hand in a tentative manner. “H-hardly anybody was in the Ruins today either, Papyrus...”

He pinched the bridge of his nostril bone and let out an unsteady breath through his teeth. He had had _quite_ enough of today already.

Papyrus took several long strides forward and the human flinched, but he stopped directly in front of them. He stood right in front of them, he folded his arms over his chest, tilted his head down and stared them right in the eyes, and gave them the hardest stare that he ever had.

“Explain. _Now._”

“I-I woke up,” Frisk shifted backwards but he snagged them by the shoulder and it was clear that they were uneasy by the way that they tightly gripped the stick in their trembling hand, the way that they refused to meet his sharp gaze. “Back at the-the start, where I always do. But-but nobody showed up this time? I-I mean, I-I-I-”

“Frisk.”

They sputtered and stuttered over their words and before he knew what was happening they were outright sobbing, shaking and crying like he had never seen before. He felt his very much wanted anger gradually slipping away from him then, no matter how badly he wanted to cling to his outrage he just couldn't find it in himself to do it when the human child was having an emotional breakdown. It might have been a ruse or a clever trick for all he knew. He wanted to shout, he wanted to be angry, he wanted to be vengeful toward _someone,_ and yet...

He eventually sighed and knelt down in the snow and, against his better judgment, leaned inward, wrapped his arms around their shoulders, and gave them a tight but gentle hug.

Frisk still hadn't stopped crying and shivering but they did quiet down a small bit and he stood, taking their free hand in his. So he wound up just standing there in the cold and fog, the dusty blowing wind, holding their hand and wondering just where his life had gone so horridly wrong.

“... Come on, little one. I think it's high time we had a _talk_.”

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus did not care for the sound of an empty house.

Sans did not answer any of his calls. He'd long since memorized Bunni's number, and it hurt in a way that he did not know he could hurt that her phone would not pick up either. He felt stupid for trying anyway. He was tempted to call Doctor Alphys but decided against it. He busied himself making tea instead. Undyne had been kind enough to drop off some of her spare boxes, and he wasn't all too surprised to find that it was a flavor that he was becoming all too accustomed to. Golden flower tea. Again.

He couldn't say that he particularly cared for the stuff.

He let the water boil and popped in a couple of teabags, setting the cups on the table, glad to see that the human had at least stopped their hysterical sobbing, though they were clearly still distressed. He could relate. Frisk seemed to have gotten over their crying fit awfully quickly, unexpectedly enough. They hadn't said a word since, and neither had he. Though what could he say? What was he supposed to, considering the situation? Everyone seemed to have mysteriously disappeared, and who else _could _have been responsible _but_ the human? It had been their fault every other time, hadn't it? Every other timeline that they had come out of the Ruins with that dusty knife of theirs, coming right at him swinging like there was no tomorrow, blank faced and ready to kill. And he had been at the business end of that dusty knife plenty of times. More times than he cared to count.

But this time had been different, just like they promised.

_Eventually, everyone breaks their promises._

They had promised, too. They had promised that nobody would be hurt this time. They had  _promised_ .

Papyrus's fist  _slammed_ on the table and Frisk  _jolted_ hard, and Papyrus bit his tongue. He grabbed a small towel from the counter top and cleaned up the spilled tea with a heavy frown. He was getting lost in his own head again, he hated when he did that. He let out a quiet sigh through his nostril bone, neatly putting the steaming cup of tea before Frisk and sitting down across the table from them and giving them a steady stare, adjusting his own cup of tea without drinking it. He just stared and stared until they finally looked away, cheeks flush as if wish shame or remorse. He couldn't tell which.

“... So when are you going to tell me?” he asked at long last. “When are you going to tell me the truth?”

“I don't know what you mean,” Frisk shifted uneasily.

“Don't you,” Papyrus didn't budge an inch. “Everyone is gone. And you don't know a _thing_ about why.”

“I really don't,” they shook their head once, still not meeting his gaze.

“... Okay,” he leaned back in his chair.

“What?” they blinked.

“Okay,” he shrugged. “I believe you.”

“Just... just like that?” Frisk stared up at him for a moment, unsure.

“Of course,” Papyrus took a small sip of his tea. “Because you are my friend. You would not _lie_ to me, human Frisk. Friends would never do something like _that_ to each other. Right?”

“R-right...?”

“So I believe you,” he stated calmly. “And, as your _friend,_ I believe that it would be in your best interest to remain _here_ for today until we uncover this mystery, yes?”

“But-”

“Because it would be a very un_friendly_ thing to do, leaving you all by _yourself_,” Papyrus continued a bit more firmly, locking eyes with them. “So, as your good _friend_, I have decided that we should stick _together_ today until we figure this out. Sound good?”

Frisk did not answer for the longest time. If anything, they looked quite a bit frustrated.

And for some reason, that felt like just the smallest of a win in Papyrus's book.

“Fine,” they muttered at last, and his smile grew just a little wider.

“Excellent,” he said at last taking another drink of his tea. “You know, this stuff isn't really so bad once you grow a taste for it. I used to hate tea, did you know that? Kind of like coffee, it's an acquired taste. You know?”

“Ew, no,” Frisk stuck out their tongue. “That stuff is gross.”

“To each their own,” he shrugged once and finished off his drink. “Could be a little sweeter though. But I'm starting to like my drinks just a bit strong, helps to wake me up in the mornings,” Papyrus was rambling at this point but he didn't care anymore, he wanted something, _anything_ to keep from thinking about the dusty wind outside, just how _empty_ Snowdin was right now, about how nobody was answering their phones, about how worried he was that Sans wasn't answering, about how afraid he was that he wasn't going to find anyone when he checked the sentry stations, about how sick it made him feel.

It made him downright nauseous to think that, here he was, practically having tea and biscuits with a human like a  _traitor_ while everyone else was missing,, and he was pretending like everything was normal.

“Ever seen Mettaton Vs. Ninja Space Pirates?” Papyrus stood and refilled his teacup with the pot, reclaiming his seat and crossing one leg over the other and desperately trying not to think too hard about all the screaming thoughts in his head.

“No?”

“It's absolutely awful,” he took a sip cheerfully. “I love it. We should watch it sometime. One of his earliest releases, I still have it on box set around here somewhere. Want to make some popcorn while I call up Doctor Alphys and try to figure out where everyone went to?”

“Okay?” Frisk looked a bit confused but pulled out their chair, tea mostly untouched. They dragged the rickety wooden chair over to the counter top and started digging in the cabinet that he pointed to and Papyrus rapidly finished off his next cup of tea in a hurry, more out of principle than anything. It creaked and cracked from the weight and they wobbled for a second and he reached out to catch them from slipping. He dug around in his battle body for a moment and out of habit started to call Sans again.

His soul ached hard and he closed his eye sockets.

He took a deep breath, repeated the process a few times, and then again and again.

Papyrus punched in Doctor Alphys's number from memory. There was no answer. He tried again, and then again, and she finally picked up, and he could have cried from relief.

“Hello?”

“Good morning!” he tried to sound as cheerful as possible, the popping of popcorn in front of him going off as he leaned back against the kitchen wall. He motioned for Frisk to back away from the microwave, but they ignored him and just stood on the chair in front of it. He gave up and pressed into the wall, holding the phone to his head. “Good morning, good morning Doctor Alphys? This is Papyrus, how are you?”

“Oh my god, P-Papyrus? You're a-alive?”

“Well, yes?” he blinked. “I mean, I have been all day, give or take. Why would I not be?”

“T-there w-were re-reports of-of p-people g-going m-m-missing,” she answered after a moment, and Papyrus watched as Frisk struggled with the hot popcorn. “N-nob-nobody h-heard from y-you all d-day, and e-everyb-body in S-Snowdin v-vanished a-all at o-once w-when m-my video f-feeds a-all c-cut out a-at once, a-and-and-!”

“Doctor, Doctor, calm down...!” he held up a hand both to her and Frisk, reaching out to help the human with the bag and opening it with one hand for them. Frisk just nodded in thanks to him and hopped down and made off for the living room with it. He pushed the chair back in with his leg, shifting back and forth in place and biting his tongue for a moment. “You said your cameras cut out all at once?”

“Y-yeah?” she responded. “All ov-over the place, i-it was crazy! E-every s-single one! L-like, I-I d-don't know w-what mal-malfunctioned, b-but right a-after, a w-whole bunch o-of people w-went missing, I-I'm f-freaking out-!”

Papyrus worriedly poked his head back in and looked at the human, who was busy looking under the television set for a movie to watch, apparently. He sighed and ran a gloved hand over his head, many more questions piling up than he had before.

“This is indeed intriguing,” he said more to himself than anything. “I was in Waterfall,” he admitted. “Talking to Undyne. I got back to Snowdin this morning and found out a little bit ago that everyone was missing, I haven't seen... anyone,” he lied and felt like trash for doing so. He couldn't really tell her about the human without raising an alarm though, he himself had thought that they had caused the disappearances, what would everyone else think?

“Undyne is okay?” he heard an immense sigh of relief.

“Yeah,” he nodded once, going back into the kitchen and leaning against the wall again. “She has some weird thoughts about humans, it's kind of strange.”

“Anime probably isn't helping,” she snickered over the phone, before stopping herself. “I-I mean, um, _documentaries,_” Alphys corrected herself. “I'm the one who helped her m-make that giant sword of h-hers, b-but under n-_no _circumstances s-should you let her 'show you bankai', understood?”

“What does that even mean?”

“Just _trust_ me on this one. It's an anime thing.”

“Okay...?” Papyrus blinked. “Nyer-hem. Doctor? Can we get back to the... disappearances thing?”

“O-oh! Right!” Alphys sounded very much like she was shuffling some papers together and tapping keys, she might have been at a computer. “I d-did manage to get some p-previous f-footage of e-everyone b-before the c-cameras cut out, starting near S-Snowdin forest...? I-It's almost l-like... like an e-earthquake o-or something, I c-can't really tell... I-I'm sorry Papyrus, that's all I c-could really get,” she mumbled. “Whatever you do, do n-n-_not _leave the house, o-okay?”

“Sure. Thank you for trying, Doctor,” he sighed. “It's something to go off of, at least.”

“G-good luck, Papyrus,” Alphys cleared her throat. “I'll k-keep in touch, o-okay?”

“Alright. Stay safe, Doctor.”

“Y-you too, Papyrus.”

He clicked the phone off and called his brother one last time.

No answer.

He sighed and stuck it back into his battle body, worriedly running a hand over his head. Gods above and below, how he just wished his brother would simply walk in through the front door, not bother to kick the snow off his shoes so that he could scold him for being lazy. He missed him.

_There's always tomorrow._

For some reason, that thought didn't really help at all.

Papyrus knew for a fact that he wasn't just going to stay put when there was a chance that there were still people out there that might still need help. Not when his brother could still be out there. There could still be hope. He could still be  _alive._

“... Human Frisk?” he said, turning to them as they still had a handful of the popcorn in their mouth. They paused and looked up at him as if uncertain, slowly putting down the bag. The look in their eyes was wary, and they watched him carefully but firmly adjust his scarf and plant his fists on his hips, drawing himself up to his full height. “... How would you like to go on a little _adventure_?”

0-0-0-0-0

Snowdin should never have been this empty.

Frisk shivered in the cold breeze, and Papyrus reached out to them and offered his hand. They took it in their own, their other clutching tightly at the stick in their other. For some reason they clung to that thing like it was a lifeline, but he wasn't going to take it from them. They hadn't said why they'd swapped out their knife for a blunt stick, and he hadn't asked, nor was he going to. Papyrus had enough questions on his mind already. He made sure to lock the door behind him, knowing that Sans had his own ways of getting inside, he had his own house key. And even if he lost it, he could easily get in without it, he knew that. His brother was a slippery little snail.

Papyrus began his march and tried to keep his long strides just a bit shorter to make it easier on the human, but they kept up easily enough, which was a blessing on its own. He was in a hurry as it was. He still made sure to knock on every house and abode he came across, and each and every time he was met with awful silence. Nobody answered, nobody was home, nobody came. Every single time.

There was so much _dust._

Grillby's, the library, the inn. No place was safe, nowhere was sacred. It was like everywhere had been hit, oddly enough, simultaneously. Like nobody had even had the chance to run or evacuate, like everyone had been caught unawares. Doctor Alphys had mentioned something like an earthquake, and yet, no patches of ground had seemed to be disturbed, no rocks or divots in the earth looked like they were cracked open. There was even a small pile of dust next to the Giftmas tree in the middle of town. He didn't want to think about that one.

Sometimes it was so thick in places, clumps of it in chunks as if people had been caught unawares; it made him want to be sick on the spot. Frisk seemed less bothered than him by it, but they did seem uneasy at least. 

Papyrus point blank refused to go back into Bunni's shop.

When he was done with his patrol of Snowdin, he continued his stride past the large ice covered welcome sign to Snowdin. Frisk had remained silent the entire time. He wondered how they were handling seeing all of this carnage, but surely they must have seen all of this before if they met him on the icy path leading to Waterfall. It surely wasn't doing them any good to see it all again a second time. But he wasn't going to leave them all alone, not when something strange and possibly dangerous was going on.

“... Doing okay down there?” he asked quietly, and Frisk just stared straight ahead. After a moment they gave a single nod. They clutched their stick a bit tighter and for a few seconds turned around and looked behind them. Papyrus followed their gaze, but there was nobody there. He felt a prickle on the back of his neck and picked up the pace a little bit, eager to get to his brother's sentry station. He desperately wanted to find Sans there, sleeping on the job and just fine. He wanted to tell him off for slacking off, he wanted more than anything for him to be _okay_. He wanted him to pick up the _damned phone_, that would make matters a lot easier, more likely than anything he had the thing on mute again, oh how he wanted that to be the case. He was worried to the point of being sick. He picked up the pace a bit more before he remembered the human, he was almost dragging them at this point. Poor thing.

Papyrus passed a couple more piles of dust and tried hard not to think about the members of the royal guard who always harassed him about throwing him a bone on the way to work. They were always joking about that, but a nice couple once he got to know them. He _wouldn't_ think about it. All he had to do was _not_ think about how awful it was, easy peasy, he _wasn't_ starting to cry, no sir, no matter how badly his eye sockets were stinging as he furiously rubbed them with his fist and the panic rising in his chest as he resisted the urge to leave the human behind and bolt as fast as he could to his brother's sentry station just to make sure that he was okay-

“You good?” Frisk asked.

“Y-yea-” Papyrus cleared his throat after a few moments, coughing into one hand and taking a moment, grateful that the human wasn't pointing out how pitiful he must have looked to them that he was practically falling apart at the seams. He forced himself to keep it together and gave himself a hard shake. He had a _job_ to do. There were people that counted on him, there could still be monsters out here that needed _help_. “I mean, yes. Thank you, human Frisk. Let's... let's keep going. You... you said that there you met _hardly_ anyone, right?”

“In the Ruins, yep,” Frisk's expression was that of stone as they walked, a bit slower now, he silently noted. “Just a ghost. He's always there, no matter what. He can't die, anyway. He always goes back to Waterfall after I deal with him, so he's probably gone back there by now.”

“Oh... so, he's the _only_ one you've met so far...?” Papyrus's soul sank just a bit.

“Yep,” Frisk stated plainly. “Kinda weird. Most timelines aren't like this at all. Crazy.”  
“That's one word for it...” he shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

“Well...” Frisk murmured in a calm tone after a few seconds, drawing in a breath of cool air, blowing out a small jet of steam through their nostrils and looking up to him, stopping in their tracks and pulling him with them. “Papyrus, that's the _thing_ about _crazy._ You don't really _know_ you're going crazy until you _start_ do you?”

“Well... I'm not really sure,” he scratched the back of his head.

“That's the thing,” they explained, letting go of his hand and gesturing with theirs. “It's like...” Frisk tried to hold something invisible in their hand, giving him a hard look. “Like... like jumping down a hole in a mountain, but in slow motion. You don't really know until you hit rock bottom. And the thing is... I don't think we've hit the bottom yet.”

“What do you mean...?” Papyrus asked, that uncomfortable prickle on the back of his neck starting to itch again.

“It's kind of like we're in the same boat here,” Frisk continued, staring up at him. “I never even thought we were in the same river before. But we're both going down the same waterfall of crazy. Would you have said that you were the same person you were just a few weeks ago?”

“... No,” he admitted honestly, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head. “No, I wouldn't.”

“Exactly. No sane person would admit to making friends with public enemy number _one_, predict the future, or going backwards through _time_, and yet here we are,” they cast out their arm to him. “And the funny thing is? What's _really _scary?” they lowered their voice and he leaned in closer to hear them. “I don't think we've even hit the bottom yet.”

That actually sent a shiver up his spine.

“... I think we should keep going,” Papyrus cleared his throat uncomfortably after a few moments of awkward silence. He held out his hand to them and they dug around in the snow for a second. He could have _sworn _that he saw a glimmer of something yellow flash down there but it was gone in the brief time he tried to look for it. But he _knew_ that he saw it, despite how mad it felt that he tried to prove that to himself.

“Sure,” Frisk shrugged. They took his hand and they kept going, their words bouncing around his head despite his best efforts not to let them bother him. And yet they did, no matter how badly he wanted them not to.

Regardless, he had a job to do.

Papyrus found a couple more of Doctor Alphys's cameras that were tucked away around Snowdin forest, and despite what she had said about them being non functioning, he couldn't find a single thing wrong with them. They _looked_ to be in working order, at least. They didn't seem to be broken or touched in the slightest. He frowned and waved in front of one of them before walking away, continuing his patrol toward the sentry stations. There were plenty more small piles of dust that he walked past, and it was difficult not to think about the poor lost souls of whoever it might have been. There were always teens and kids out here playing, people trying out puzzles and traps for humans, or just plain having fun in the snow.

They were all gone now.

Nobody answered his calls or shouts.

Nobody came.

It was severely unsettling.

He pressed on despite all of this, making his way past snow sculptures that were unfinished and partially complete, as if someone had been in the middle of making them when the tragedy had occurred. A lump in his throat formed when he looked down and saw an old snow Papyrus that he had made with his brother. He didn't have to look to remember the lump of snow that his brother had made, written in marker with the name Sans on it.

_I need to find him. Now._

His strides grew longer and faster as he pulled the human with him and he finally,  _finally_ spotted the sentry stations not far away. His own was ignored and his breathing was heavy, already shouting as he neared the one he so badly needed to be at.

“SANS!” Papyrus bellowed. “Sans, you lazybones! Where are you?”

He nearly  _carried_ Frisk as he came to a full tilting stop at the sentry station, marrow freezing in his bones.

There was nobody there.

“... Sans?” he asked quietly.

“He wasn't here when I came through,” Frisk explained in a surprisingly gentle, quiet tone. “He always lets me through.”

“I've never – I'm sorry, fucking _what,_” Papyrus came to a hard screeching halt inside his head.

Even Frisk seemed to back up a step, letting go of his hand in surprise.

“He... he's always here?”

“No, not that,” Papyrus pinched the bridge of his nostril bone and clenched his teeth. “The _other_ part.”

“He... always lets me through?”

“That. _That_ part,” that uncomfortable, boiling _anger_ that he was so unused to was starting to rise up again. He tried his best to quash it, he really did, but it was getting harder and harder to. “He. He just. He just _lets_ you through.”

“Y-yes?”

“Every time.”

“... Yes?”

“... I'm going to kill him. I'm actually going to kill him. I'm going to make sure he's alive. I'm going to make sure he's alive, and then I'm going to kill him to death,” Papyrus rubbed his temples in aggravation. “Oh. Ohhhh. Oh, my _god_, that lazy _jackass. _I. Can _not. _Be-_lieve _him.”

“It's not that big a deal,” Frisk shrugged. “He made a promise not to kill me, don't hold it against him too hard.”

“I'll be as hard on my brother as I want to,” Papyrus jabbed a finger in their direction.  
“Kinky.”

“Why does everyone keep _saying_ that?” he threw up his arms in frustration.

“Give me a sec,” Frisk interrupted. They dug around in the snow for a moment. Irritated and fed up with impatience, he seized his opportunity when he spotted the golden glowing gleam and _snagged_ the glistering object that they toyed with in the powder snow.

And then the entire universe imploded.

He saw sounds, he tasted color, he could hear flavor and feel thoughts of every variety, all within the span of a single glorious, beautiful horrifying eternal second. He didn't know how long he was holding that gleaming, shining light that was neither magic nor object, their hands colliding; he didn't know how long he was staring at that _thing_ that was neither monster nor human, that thing that was both inside out and outside in, flesh and bone and meat and magic. He could see it, but also see _through_ it, blood pumping in and out through thick veins, yellow stars and blue galaxies coursing slowly through chunky oatmeal-esque tissue. It stood on three multiple jointed legs, bent at such alien angles that it cracked in horrid viscous motions. How could he have possibly not seen something that big before? It didn't even have eyes, none that could be seen anyway. The back lumped and bubbled with three, four multiple jointed thin arms with too many claw like fingers dripping with some kind of viscous oily substance dripping from it that landed and burned through the see through skin, withdrawing into the body and reappearing on the other side, and there were so many gaping _mouths_ on the thing that it was a wonder how the thing could even eat at all. And through all of this, Papyrus could only stare in absolute, stock still _horror_, and all the while, throughout all of this, both of them said not a single word, breathed not a single breath, and the creature was, worst of all, completely, perfectly, entirely silent as the grave.

Until it moved.

It sounded, ever so slightly, likes bones _cracking, _and the entire body turned as if it were _looking_ at him.

Papyrus couldn't hold it, his soul itself shrieking in horror as it took a single pounding, lurching step toward him.

“What is _that_?!” he screamed, panicking and tripping over himself in terror. He grabbed Frisk who was in equal parts silent hiccuping fear and he quickly pushed them behind himself, trying to shield them with his own body as he scooted backwards while the thing dragged its lumpy body toward them. “What is that, what is that what the _hell is that thing oh MY GOD WHAT IN THE SEVEN FREAKING HELLS IS THAT-!”_

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus sat bolt upright in bed, his headache prominent in mind. He rubbed his temples and blinked a few times, the alarm clock going off next to his bed. His soul was slamming in his chest and he shakily attempted to shut off the alarm a couple of times, unable to do so his hands were trembling so badly. He eventually managed it and swung his legs out of bed. A single check was all it took.

Tuesday.

“Oh. Fantastic.”

He then promptly leaned over the trash bin, laughed to himself, and vomited like there was no tomorrow.

0-0-0-0-0


	21. Back In Black

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus had some questions, and not as many answers as he would like.

First of all, it was still Tuesday morning, and early too. So that meant that there was a good chance that everyone he knew and loved was still well and alive. So that was nice.

Second, and most prominently on his mind, was the question of what in the actual _hell_ had just happened to them both.

He remembered hearing the crunch and crack of snapping bone, the ripping and tearing of flesh and sinew, the shrieks and bloodcurdling screams of agony and fear and pain-

And then, nothing but darkness.

Now, here he was, kneeling in his bedroom next to his dimly lit computer in the corner, wondering if he had hallucinated it all. He stood and ran a hand over his aching head, musing. He didn't _think _he had imagined it all, although he certainly wished that he had. Yesterday-today had _not _been the good day that he had wanted it to be. In fact, it had been about as far from _good_ as it could possibly get.

What exactly had _happened_?

It all felt like a rushed blur near the end of that timeline. He remembered seeing that... _creature_, and vividly. It was burned into his mind at this point, he didn't think he was ever going to forget such a horrifying sight. He didn't know what kind of monster it was, if it could even be _called_ a monster. Those animalistic growls hadn't even sounded _sentient. _It felt downright rude, to discriminate based on looks, but that thing was hideous to an extreme. Drooling, slavering, burning acidic mouths and that horrid _bone cracking_ sound it made when it moved, it made his marrow shiver. No ears or eyes but it seemed to know exactly where they were, too many arms, too many mouths, too many _teeth_.

And the screaming, he was pretty sure that had been him and the human, but he couldn't be entirely sure. He wasn't certain he wanted to know.

He could see it, but also see _through_ it – what even _was_ that thing? It was quite literally giving him a worse headache trying to recall the creature for some reason, his pounding forehead making it more difficult to contemplate. He shook his head and rubbed his temples, trying hard not to think on the ghastly thing any longer than he needed to. He was positive that he was going to be seeing it in his nightmares one way or another.

“... Oh god, Sans!” it all hit him at once as everything else came rushing back, all of the worry and fear and panic overwhelming his previous concerns. He threw open his bedroom door and, still in his pajamas, ran down the hall. He scampered barefoot and pounded on his brother's bedroom door over and over until it finally, _finally _creaked open, Sans tiredly rubbing the sleep from his eye socket with one hand, still dressed in shorts and his jacket as if he hadn't even bothered to take them off before dropping into bed.  
“Whuh?” Sans yawned without bothering to cover his mouth. “Mornin' Paps, whuz-oof!”

“Good morning Sans!” Papyrus picked him up off the ground with a massive hug, swinging him in a circle. “It's a good morning, _indeed_!”

“Okay, _okay_, I'm awake!” Sans laughed and smacked him on the head a couple times, though not nearly hard enough to hurt. “Put me down, ya big palooka! What's gotten into you?”

“I'm just-” he was nearly in tears as he carefully put his little big brother down and drew in a ragged breath, trying to stabilize himself. “... I love you, Sans. I want you to know that, brother.”

“Love you too, bro,” Sans smiled up at him, a blush starting to creep over his cheeks. “You... you feelin' alright?”

“Better than ever,” Papyrus sighed and leaned over, hugging him tightly. “Just glad to wake up to find you home, really. It's a blessing to have you here.”  
“Blegh, are you a tree?”

“What?”  
“Because you're getting' all _sappy_ on me,” Sans poked him, and Papyrus immediately groaned, regretting his decision already. He stood and pushed himself off his brother, who was snickering at his own pun.

“You know what, I changed my mind,” he deadpanned. “Your terrible jokes are the bane of my existence and you were dropped as a babybones.”

“Bro, your words are hurtful,” Sans clutched a hand to his chest with a loud faux gasp.

“So are your awful jokes,” Papyrus continued without missing a beat. “Did you sleep in that? Never mind,” he shook his head. “Put on some actual clothes and meet me in the kitchen, I'll get you some breakfast.”

He took off for his bedroom and closed the bedroom door behind him, and sank against the mirror. His soul was slamming against his rib cage and his headache was a nuisance, but he couldn't keep the smile off of his face. His brother was home, alive and well. He was _okay_. That meant that there was a good chance that everyone else was still alright, too. So maybe today wouldn't be so bad after all. Papyrus breathed a humongous sigh of relief and sank all the way down to the floor, squeaking against the glass and rubbing his temples with his fingertips. He could have _cried_ he was so relieved. Actually forgoing the 'could have' part and started to, a small amount, he admitted. Just a little bit ago he had been so worried, so _afraid_ that he was going to throw open his brother's bedroom door and find no one, or worse. That he was going to be all alone in the house again, that he was going to go out into Snowdin and be all by himself, to find nothing but the cold, bitter, biting dusty wind.

Today was a beautiful brand new day.

He stood on slightly trembling legs and pulled open his closet, dressing as neatly and sharply as he could. He made sure to put on some extra clothes first, underneath everything. He wore some tight fitting pants and a black tee shirt underneath everything else, hidden away under it all. Light clothing that was easily concealed and easy to wear was good, something a bit more practical than his shorts and cool dude shirt that he wore already, so he would swap them out each day. Battle body donned, boots strapped on, gloves tightly pulled up and scarf wrapped around his neck, he glanced at himself in the mirror only to realize that something seemed slightly... off.

He stared and stared for a moment, then a minute, then two. It was like staring at one of those magic eye puzzles that one had to adjust to for _just_ the right amount of time to, be just the right distance from to really see the full picture. And when he did, when it finally hit him, he finally saw what he was missing.

It took him nearly three minutes of staring before he finally realized what was wrong.

He was bleeding from the eye sockets.

“What the _fu-!?”_

He jerked backwards and nearly tripped over his feet in panic. He wiped it away with the back of his glove, dusty marrow coming away from his touch. He sniffed and cleared it away, frowning. It was _alarming_, to say the least. Had he been like that all morning? He couldn't have been, Sans _definitely _would have said something, right? That must have been the case. His soul was beating furiously in his chest with fear, and he pressed his other hand hard against his sternum trying to still the sensation. Nothing else _seemed_ to be the problem, it didn't exactly _hurt_, but it didn't feel great, either. He did a quick health check. Magic scans were routine for monsters, and took very little effort to perform; it was considered quite rude to do one on someone else without permission, more of a primitive way to gauge someone's overall healthiness rather than anything else. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and his frown deepened. He wondered if it had something to do with how painfully sick he had been when he had woken up. That surely must have been it, maybe he just hadn't noticed because he had been too concerned with whatever had happened in that previous timeline. There were getting to be too many todays to keep track of. Maybe a journal or notebook would be a handy thing to keep. But what would be the point in keeping one when nothing would stick anyway? How was he even supposed to keep track of things when this same day kept repeating over and over? That was quite the predicament. He was obviously going to have to work on his memory skills.

He snapped his fingers and pushed off out the door, heading down the stairs. He found Sans sitting at the kitchen table with his feet up on the table, and he grumbled and slapped his feet off the table.

“Sans, how many times do I have to _tell_ you?” he sighed. “Feet off the _table!_”

“At _least_ eight,” Sans shrugged, pulling out a ketchup bottle and taking a sip. Papyrus only shook his head in disgust. He pulled out a plastic wrapped plate and put it in the microwave, turning it on and put his hands on his hips, checking the clock and biting his tongue.

“... Okay,” he looked back to his brother. “Breakfast spaghetti is in the microwave. I want you to take today off, Sans.”  
“Wait, really?” Sans was in the process of putting his slippers back on the table when he stopped mid motion, putting his feet down on the floor and staring up at him. “Why?”

“I'm going ahead myself today,” Papyrus explained. “Take the day off, get some rest. But I expect you to be at your post tomorrow morning, got it?”

“Uh. Yeah. Sure thing, Paps,” Sans blinked once, taking a slow drink from the ketchup bottle. “If you say so.”

“I want you to do something for me though...” Papyrus placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Sans stiffened at the touch, a little surprised. “If you see _anything_ out of the ordinary, anything strange or weird at all... call me, alright?”

“O... okay?” Sans blinked again, his eternal smile fading a little. “Is somethin' goin' on, Paps?”

“Just trying to get through the day,” he sighed tiredly, and patted him on the shoulder a couple of times. “I love you, brother. Be good. Alright?”

“... A'ight. L-love you too, bro.”

Papyrus turned and left without another word, not trusting himself to speak. He closed the door behind him and hung his head, desperately wishing that he had the courage that he needed to just tell him the truth. But what was even the point when there _was_ no point to it all anyway? He refused to drag his poor brother through his quagmire of troubles. Sans had enough to deal with anyway. He already had pitifully poor health conditions, he was stressed out enough already, he _couldn't_ make him handle all of his problems, too. It wasn't just a bad thing of him to do, it was cruel. No, he couldn't, he _wouldn't. _He promised to himself. He was a big bones. There were people that counted on him. He could handle this, he could handle one day. He could _do_ this. The hustle and bustle of Snowdin around him filled him with a vigor that he needed. He already had a plan of action forming in his mind, and questions that needed answers.

So he clenched his fists, held his head high, and began his march toward making it through the most important day of his life.

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus wasn't just on the lookout for the human as he marched through the snow on the way to his sentry station.

He was also keeping an eye socket out for those weird little yellow things that had apparently sprung up seemingly overnight.

He could not interact with them in anyway, which was bizarre in and of itself. He reached down and found one not too far from his house, near the general store actually, on his way to grab some cinnamon treats from Bunni. He had been eager to greet her that morning, he had been missing her, and had found one of those bizarre objects glimmering in the powder, almost as if trying to get his attention. But, this time, it didn't disappear the moment he finally tried to look at it. The glistering shine stayed right where it was, which was strange and intriguing enough on its own, but when he knelt down in the snow and tried to touch it, it was like his hand just phased right through, like he was wafting his hand right through light itself. It was strange, to say the least. He looked around and nobody even payed any attention to him at all, nobody seemed to notice, nothing seemed to happen whatsoever. He was a little more worried, however, of a repeat of yesterday's event; of a return of that, quite frankly, _horrifying_ gigantic spacious and space-y yellow and blue creature that had appeared out of seemingly thin air, and the concurrent pain that came packaged with it. But everything _appeared_ to be fine, at least from what he could tell. Nothing out of the ordinary whatsoever. Absolutely normal, boring Tuesday.

So, Papyrus stood and dusted the snow from his knees, rubbed his gloved hands a couple of times, and slowly entered the general store.

“Good morning!” he made sure to lower his voice, the bell above his head ringing as the violet rabbit monster's ears perked up from behind the counter. She smiled and stood a little straighter, crossing her arms across her chest and smiling warmly at him.

“Oh! Good mornin', fella! Come on in outta the cold, darlin'. What can I get for ya today?”

Papyrus grinned wearily, leaned on the counter, rubbed his temples and said “Okay, so... I've got a bit of a weird request...”

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus was ready and waiting for the human at the sentry station.

They weren't exactly on time today, although he couldn't say he faulted them for that. After yesterday's incident, he hadn't exactly been feeling himself lately either. Things had been... _strange_. But then again, so was everything. They kept checking over their shoulder as they walked, and Papyrus immediately noticed that they were armed with a pocket knife as they crossed the wooden bridge. He said nothing as he sat behind the sentry station, and they checked behind their shoulder again before finally noticing him. He gave them a little wave and sat up a little straighter on the wooden stool, smiling tiredly.

“Good morning, human Frisk,” he yawned, holding up a steaming paper cup with a little lid on top. “Brought you something.”

“... Papyrus?” Frisk stared at him, gripping the knife with both hands.

“Yes, it is I,” he pressed a hand to his chest. “You need not fear, only bask in the magnificence that is my fabulous glory, etcetera, etcetera.”

“Papyrus,” Frisk breathed a heavy sigh of relief, their arms dropping to their sides and a slight smile twitching at their lips. “Never thought I'd say this, but _boy_ am I happy to see you.”

“Well, I am certainly happy to have you in my company as well, human,” he smiled back as the human took the paper cup from his hand, sniffing cautiously at it before taking a sip, their eyebrows raising. They stared up at him in surprise for a moment.

“... You got me hot chocolate,” not a question, more of a statement.

“You did say that you didn't like coffee,” Papyrus nodded. “So I figured I might get you something to warm you up for a cold morning. Yesterday didn't turn out so well, so... um. Are you alright? Human?”

“It's fine,” Frisk wiped tears from their eyes with their sleeve quickly and turned their head, pretending to cough instead. “I mean, it's fine. It's, you know. It's whatever.”

“Yeah. I know,” he said gently, if a little sadly. “... It's whatever.”

They didn't speak for a minute, and Papyrus wasn't sure that he wanted to interrupt them. Frisk sniffled and cleared their throat, insisting that they were fine, so he played along to allow them to save face. It seemed like the polite thing to do. After a couple of minutes Frisk finally seemed to have it under control, and he wearily took a drink of his own steaming paper cup of golden flower tea. He toasted them in silence and leaned back on the stool, and they stood before the sentry station in absolute quiet for what seemed like an eternity.

“... You really didn't have to get me anything,” they didn't quite meet his gaze.

“I know,” Papyrus nodded.

“Gee thanks,” Frisk mumbled after another couple moments.

“You're getting better at it,” his smile grew just a bit, and he took another sip, and he toasted them again. “Give it time. Speaking of which,” he checked the time quickly. “You're late today. Everything alright, human Frisk?”

“... Weird things going on,” Frisk finished off their drink and threw the cup away on the ground, which immediately frustrated Papyrus. That little litterbug! The _nerve!_ They clambered atop the sentry station and sat on it, swiveling their legs up and wrapping their arms around them. “Like, weirder than usual. Have you... _seen _anything weird lately?”

“You know...” he almost said 'no' out of force of habit and kicked himself for trying to lie, and to a _friend_ no less, he felt like garbage. “As a matter of fact, I have. I've been seeing some _very_ strange things lately, human Frisk. And from the sounds of it, you have too...?”

Frisk didn't say anything, and they refused to look at him; they just seemed stuck in a thousand yard stare, straight ahead back toward the gate and bridge, ever so slightly rocking back and forth. He started to reach out for them but recoiled at the last moment. He was almost afraid of harming them with the slightest touch, like for some reason it felt like even the gentlest breeze could shatter them. He worriedly pulled his hand away, biting his tongue.

“... Blood,” Frisk stated simply after a few minutes of dead silence. “Been... been seeing blood. When... when nobody else seems to see it...?”

“What do you mean?” Papyrus felt a slight chill start to creep up his spine.

“You'll figure it out. You next.”

“I... I was crying marrow this morning,” he admitted honestly, reaching up and touching his eye sockets, feeling slightly sick from the memory of that jarring incident. “Honestly I'm shocked that Sans didn't flip like a pancake. You said nobody else seemed to see it? That's... odd,” he frowned, scratching the back of his head. “But intriguing.”

Frisk didn't immediately answer, and Papyrus put a hand on their shoulder. They flinched and shivered, but didn't back away. They did, however, seem to still for just a moment, seeming ever so slightly calmer. He pulled away after a moment, tea forgotten altogether, folding his hands in his lap, thinking heavily.

“... So,” he leaned forward with his elbows on the sentry station. “Remember that little yellow thing we touched yesterday?”

Frisk _froze_ immediately and he wondered if he had said the wrong thing. They didn't answer at all, but their head did swivel toward him, crimson eyes widening ever so slightly.

“I found another one,” he continued. “So, I decided to experiment, you know, attempt to decipher approximately what had led to our terrible circumstances. But the thing is, nothing really seemed to happen when I touched it,” Papyrus explained, and Frisk was looking around nervously at this point, all over the place, chewing their bottom lip and shaking their head at him, brows furrowed – they looked supremely upset, and he paused his line of questioning on the spot.

“... Frisk?”

“Save early,” was all they said. “Save early. Save often.”

“Um. Frisk?”

“Save early. Save often,” Frisk muttered, clasping the sides of their head and rocking back and forth, hyperventilating at this point, looking to be at the point of tears. “Save early, save often.”

“Human Frisk, it's alright,” he did his best to sound soothing, reaching out for them, but they slapped his hand away. “E-everything is going to be okay-”

“No,” Frisk hissed at him, pulling down from the sentry station and standing. “No, no it's not. You don't understand. You – you aren't supposed to _know_. You aren't supposed to _know_, you _can't_ know, it's against the _rules_.”

“What rules?” Papyrus stood, coming around the side to stand in front of them. He was fully invested now, and more than a little intrigued. This had his full attention, and he wasn't just going to let this one go.

“The _rules,_” he should have been paying just a bit more attention, because Frisk was clutching that little pocket knife of theirs in one hand again, and the marrow in his bones _froze_. “You broke the _rules!_”

0-0-0-0-0

“Really now, Frisk,” Papyrus was sweating profusely as he dodged another swing. “There's no need for this!”

“You aren't supposed to know!” Frisk yelled at him, slicing a chunk clean out of the right side of his battle body, very nearly missing a vital rib. His soul was slamming in his rib cage so loudly that he could hear it pounding in his head, and a bead of sweat dripped down the side of his cheek. “You _can't, _you can't just break the _rules_!”

“_What _rules?” Papyrus tried to hold up his hands in peace, and very nearly lost a couple fingers when Frisk came at him swinging again, only for him to back up and nearly trip over a snowbank.

“The _rules!_” they insisted as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Which was frustrating in and of itself.

“You're being unreasonable!” Papyrus leaped back as they took a huge horizontal swing and took another slice out of the bottom of his battle body. This thing really was worth all the work put into it. “Come on, human Frisk! Think this through! Do you _really_ want to hurt me?”

“You aren't supposed to _know!_” they shouted again, and again, and again, each time swinging that knife faster and faster and faster, each time getting harder to dodge, each time taking a bigger piece of his battle body with it, each time his movements growing slower. Each time getting harder to dodge. He could barely _breathe_ anymore, gasping and wheezing from the sheer amount of effort it took just to dodge, but they hardly seemed tired at all.

“Come now, Frisk,” he pleaded from his knees, desperate at this point. He smiled wearily at them, holding a hand out to them, palm open to the air. “Isn't there _someone_ in there that wants to do the right thing? A _friend_?”

Frisk _froze_ mid-swing, face contorted in an amalgam of confusion and pain and sorrow.

“It's not too late,” Papyrus pounced on the opportunity. Maybe they had worn themself out by now. “Just... let's put the weapon _down_, Frisk. We can still talk about this. Okay? Um... F-Frisk...?”

“I-I...” they looked burned out and miserable for a moment before suddenly clasping the knife all the harder, eyes gleaming vibrantly all of a sudden, face clearing of all emotion and draining away of everything except for a blank, empty, plastic smile.

“... I'll see you soon.”

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus awoke to the sound of an alarm clock.


	22. Only Human After All

0-0-0-0-0

Today was already not a good day.

Papyrus punched the alarm clock so hard that it flew across the room and shattered into pieces. He regretted his rash action immediately, grumbled and mumbled as he fought with the impulse to drag himself of bed, rubbing the aching slice across his chest where he had been split stem to stern. Of course, it wasn't there _now_, but that didn't mean it hadn't hurt like absolute _hell_. He could still almost _feel_ it. But he just couldn't bring himself to get up, not now. Maybe not ever. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he wanted to, he just couldn't bring himself to get up.

He sighed and closed his eye sockets, one hand pressed against his head as he rethought yesterday all over again. Clearly, he had gone wrong somewhere along the lines. Things had been going so _well_, too. He was learning a little bit more about the oddities that nobody else seemed to notice, got to talk to Bunni again, that was always nice. Any chance to talk to her always brightened his day, just a little bit. She was just so sweet. And he had remembered that human Frisk liked sweets, they had seemed to really appreciate the hot chocolate that he brought them.

And then he had to go and open his big dumb mouth and blab about those weird sparkles and watch them go absolutely bananas.

“_Stu_pid _stu_pid _stu_pid,” his palm _thunked_ against his forehead in rhythm with his irate seething. Stars and stones, what was he _thinking?_ He wanted to talk to someone, _anyone, _about the mysteries and curiosities that seemed to be springing up like wildfires in his life, and out of literally anyone, he picked the person that had literally killed him on multiple occasions? Had he even been thinking at _all_ yester-today? And yet, still he kept on trying, kept on hoping, that maybe, just _maybe,_ that they could be trusted, that if he kept holding out hope, that if he kept showing them mercy, kept giving them chances, that they could turn their life around and be shown that there was a better way. Or maybe he was just as dumb as everyone thought he was after all.

Papyrus curled up in the corner and pulled his knees to his chest and did his best not to cry.

He wrapped his arms around his legs and tried to steady himself, doing his best to recall every single last detail of Undyne's breathing exercises that she had taught him. He still had so, so many _questions_. So, he focused his attention on those instead. It was better than letting his mind wander into those dark, unpleasant places.

That... _thing_ from the other day had shown up, but it was too huge, too spacious and vibrant to have possibly been missed unless it had some kind of cloaking magic. It only appeared when he had made that split second decision to grab that little shining glimmer in the snow – specifically, when human Frisk had done the same, his hand touching theirs. And that many-mouthed beast had torn them into shreds in literally moments, Frisk seemed just as shocked and terrified as he was, so it seemed doubtful that they had any clue as to who or what it was, where it came from or why it was there; or just as upsetting, how _long_ it had been there and he just hadn't noticed.

But he had touched one of those glimmering shines in Snowdin the... day? Could he call it a full day after if it wasn't quite that long? It was more the length of a long movie, or maybe the time length of a steady walk or a jog. Maybe that was what he could call them, a jog. The jog after he and Frisk had been attacked by that mystery beast, he had touched one of those shining gleams in Snowdin, but the mystery beast didn't show up. Nobody seemed to notice or care, and when he talked to Frisk about it, they freaked out. What was it they said about it?

_Save early. Save often._

Repeating it over and over again with wide eyes in a panic, almost like a mantra. In fact, if he didn't know any better, he might have guessed that they were going into some sort of trance. They were normally so stoic and reserved, they were never like that. Perhaps running into that mystery beast had had quite a few more negative repercussions than he had previously anticipated. He worried about what that might have meant for him, considering how the last jog had left him bleeding from the eye sockets, but he worried much more fervently for little Frisk. Obviously it was affecting them much worse, they were just a kid after all. The poor thing must have been having an absolute nightmare of a time, especially if they had been dealing with the daily jogs longer than he had. He was angry with them, to be sure; bitter, angry, and upset, most certainly, but he was still worried. He still cared.

Papyrus sighed and picked up his hand and held it in the air, letting it drop onto his face and repeating the process a few times.

“... Stupid,” he mumbled. “Oh my god I'm an idiot. Stupid. You can't go making friends with your murderer. Stupid stupid stupid.”

And that was exactly what he was doing, what he  _had_ been doing, hadn't it? Undyne would be  _furious_ with him if she found out, he just knew it. And worse, disappointed. But they  _were_ friends, weren't they? Sometimes he wondered. Like when they yelled mean things at him. Or stabbed him in the chest. Little things like that. It bothered him that he didn't know what Frisk meant by 'rules' that they had seemed so distressed about the previous jog. Were there any rules to this madness? What rules? Apparently he had broken some unspoken code by touching one of those gleaming sparkles? He honestly couldn't tell the difference. Maybe that was what had summoned that hideous many-mouthed beast before? Had that been all his fault? He certainly hoped not, that left an icky, oily feeling in the bottom of his soul. He rubbed his temples, thinking heavily. Two runs ago that beast had attacked them, out of nowhere, after Frisk had cleared out Snowdin-

But, wait.

Something didn't add up.

Papyrus blinked, fully attentive. Some part of the puzzle wasn't fitting in properly. Every time Frisk had come out of the Ruins with the knife, things had gone downhill, and  _fast._ Every. Single. Time.

Except, two jogs ago, Frisk  _didn't_ come out of the Ruins with a knife. 

He found them wandering, terrified in the fog toward Waterfall, with nothing on them except a stick.

And no dust.

Papyrus frowned a little harder, sitting up straight.

And the only one to tell him that the human was rampaging through Snowdin was-

“Flowey,” he murmured aloud, clasping a hand over his jaw, eventually running his hand down his face. Even when he finally slotted in one jigsaw piece, a hundred more opened up. Question upon question revealed itself to bestow upon him a dozen dozen within, a puzzle turducken. Intrigued and thoroughly upset at this point, Papyrus finally dragged himself out of bed and began to dress himself. He started to check the time and mentally kicked himself. The alarm clock wasn't much good in pieces. He had a great deal of questions, very little left to hang from, and by god by the end of the day he would _get_ some answers, no matter who he had to wrangle them from.

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus left a quick scribbled note for Sans and left the house in a hurry, scarf thrown back and blowing behind him in the breeze. He stomped through the snow with his arms crossed over his chest in a huff, eye lights trained directly ahead of him as he leaned into the breeze. Barry glanced up from his paper from outside the library when he heard him stomping, eyebrow raised.

“Oh hey,” he said distractedly. “You know a nine letter word for woodchuck-”

“No I do not and now is not the time Barry,” Papyrus promptly ignored him and kept on marching, brushing off the indignant remark from the monster. He continued his way as quickly and efficiently as he could through Snowdin, sending a quick compact message to Doctor Alphys, then tucking his phone away for later. He could deal with it afterwards. He reached the general store at the edge of town, and there it was, all over again, just _waiting_ for him to reach out and touch it.

That little shining glimmer in the snow, just begging him to take it.

Papyrus looked left, then right, shrugged, reached down and touched it.

And absolutely nothing happened.

He figured as much would be the case, but it was worth a try anyway. It was strange, however, the intense _compulsion_ he felt only a moment ago, the _urge_ to just _grab it grab it GRAB IT_ pounding in his head was just... gone, like it hadn't been there at all, and he was left wondering if it was all just part of his imagination. He shook his head furiously and let out an unsteady breath through his teeth.

_Losing it. You're losing it._

He put on his best winning smile, stood tall and proud, and slowly opened the door to the general store.

“Good morning, ma'am!” Papyrus lowered his tone a few octaves. Bunni's ears perked up and she smiled at him.

“Good mornin', fella! Come on in outta the cold, what can I get for ya?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” he rolled a hand through the air. “If you've got anything as sweet as you, I think I'll be set for life.”

To his surprise, Bunni's ears actually turned back a little bit and a blush crept into her cheeks.

“W-well,” her eyebrows raised and she covered her smile. “Ain't you a lil' flirtatious. You always that arrogant, sugar?”

“Honey,” Papyrus threw all caution to the wind, leaned on the counter and hummed in a husky tone. “Arrogance comes from inexperience. What I have is _confidence_. Now, how about you give me two cinnamon bunnies and your number?”

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus carried the paper bag of cinnamon bunnies out into the snowy breeze, the slap still stinging, but the smile stayed on his face regardless. Maybe today wasn't so bad. After all, he _had_ technically learned something new. For example, he knew one more thing that Bunni did not like, which was one more thing that he made sure to file under 'permanent memory' in the old cranial bank. He took a deep breath, let out a long jet of steam through his nostril bone and took off towards his sentry station with renewed vigor. It wouldn't do to show up late.

He arrived a little later than he intended, but still with time to spare, which was fine by him. He cleared the snow off the table top from his brother's sentry station, though with how often Sans actually showed up to it, he might as well commandeer it for now. It couldn't hurt, anyway. Papyrus dropped the bag of cinnamon bunnies onto the counter and ran a hand over his head, pacing impatiently back and forth, checking over the bridge and looking for footprints, double checking now and then to make sure nobody had come through yet. It was clear that the human hadn't shown up yet, it was still early. He hoped that the human didn't come out swinging this time, he had plenty of questions and wanted at least a _somewhat_ civil conversation with them. It was nice when he wasn't getting sliced into dust.

“Howdy!”

Papyrus jumped and clutched a hand to his chest, picking up one leg out of habit. And, right on cue, there was Flowey in between his feet, smiling up at him like nothing was wrong.

“Flowey,” Papyrus said with a bit of a frown, putting his foot down carefully and away from his little flower friend.

“Hi, Papyrus!” he tittered. “Didja miss me? Admit it. You missed me.”

“We need to _talk,_” Papyrus crossed his arms, brow bones furrowing sharply.

“About what, good buddy?” Flowey bounced on his stem eagerly. “You know I'm _always_ happy to talk to my bestie!”

“Have... have you seen anything _strange_ lately?”

“Oh, golly!” Flowey's eyes widened. “As a matter of fact, I have! You remember that human I warned you about? Well, they're headed this way,” he said in a hushed tone. “Coming right now, through the Ruins!”

“... Flowey,” Papyrus said after a moment, taking a few steps away. “Let me ask you something.”

“Oh sure, good buddy!” he chirruped.

“Can you see this?” he pointed to one of the shimmering, gleaming yellow sparkles in the snowbank.

“See what, Papyrus?”

Papyrus just stared at him.

And stared.

And stared.

“... Papyrus?”

“This,” he jabbed a gloved finger at the sparkle. “_This,_” he said through his teeth again, a bit more aggressively.

“Hmmm....” Flowey only leaned over on his stem to where Papyrus was pointing, drawing out his loud humming and slowly squinting his eyes, gradually, finally bouncing back up with a smile.

“Just snow, good buddy!”

“For _fuc-_ you know what, never mind,” Papyrus threw up his arms. “I _know_ there's something there!”

“Are you feeling okay, Papyrus?” Flowey asked with a look of concern on his face. “Gosh, you're sounding downright _manic_ lately, you know?”

“I'm not crazy!” Papyrus insisted immediately.

“If you say so,” he seemed to shrug on his stem. “Why don't you just calm down, Papyrus? You're overreacting, there's no need to get so worked up over nothing. Why don't you tell old Flowey what you think you saw, huh?”

“There's this thing – _these_ little things,” he gestured frantically toward the little glimmer in the snow. “Popping up all over the place! Little shiny yellow things, like flashlights or torches, but nobody else seems to see them, and-and-”

“Whoa, slow down there, Papyrus,” Flowey's vine popped up out of the ground and snagged him by the shoulder, pulling him down a couple inches. Papyrus's breathing hitched and he tried to still himself, looking back down to his little flower fiend. “Let me look you in the eye sockets. Hmm,” he stared hard into his face for a second, face scrunched up in some kind of unreadable expression. “You don't _look_ like you've lost it. You seem pretty convinced, actually. Are you _sure_ that you're seeing these 'things' around the place, Papyrus?”

“Yes!” he stated promptly. “But nobody but me and the human seem to even know that they're even there...!”

“Ahh,” Flowey nodded once. “And there's your problem. The human. I did _tell_ you that they were nothing but trouble, didn't I?”

“W-well-”

“That human is a basket full of death and destruction,” Flowey's smile dipped a little bit. “And if you don't get rid of them when they come through the Ruins, they are just going to drag you down with them. Don't you get that, Papyrus? Haven't you figured out how this world works?”

“Everyone can be a good person if they just try, Flowey,” Papyrus readjusted himself so that he was kneeling on his knees, and sighed heavily as he cupped the flower monster with both his hands. It seemed to surprise Flowey quite a bit, who fell silent for a long moment.

“... Listen,” Papyrus said after a stretch of silence. “I've been reliving the exact same day over and over again. I know it sounds _wacko_, but it's true. I've met this human before, and they're really not all bad. I mean, granted, they aren't all _good,_ either,” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, remembering quite vividly the numerous occasions that he had been sliced, stabbed and dusted quite painfully. “But I just _know_ that I can turn their life around. I know, deep down, that there's a good person inside of them, trying to do the right thing. And I'm going to help them, no matter how many times it takes, no matter how many days I have to relive. Someday, I'm going to help everyone in the world make it through to tomorrow. If... if I can just figure out _how_.”

Flowey just stared at him.

And stared.

And stared.

And then he started laughing.

“... What?” Papyrus balked at him, mildly offended.

“Nothing,” Flowey wiped away an invisible tear with a small vine, smile growing wider. “It's always something new with you. _Always._ God. You always were my favorite.”

“You're my favorite too, Flowey,” he patted him on the head, earning a disgruntled look from him. “I do have another question for you, though.”

“And what's that, Papyrus?”

“Those little yellow things?” he shifted uneasily, wondering if he should bring up that other bit to Flowey. He _hated_ keeping secrets, it made him feel scummy. But then again, he always had been bad at keeping his thoughts to himself. “The human... well, it was weird,” Papyrus stuttered, unsure of how to explain it. “I touched that weird yellow thing, and this monster showed up – I'm not even sure if I should _call_ it a monster, it just showed up out of nowhere, lurking over someone's _dust_, like-like... it just tore us _apart_, in seconds, screaming out of all it's mouths and howling and I don't-!”

Papyrus was barely holding back tears at this point and Flowey gently patted him on the back with a vine, but his face was one of very serious contemplation.

“Oh, golly,” Flowey nodded, thin brows turned down sharply. “If all of what you're telling me is _true_, Papyrus, then it sounds to me like you had a run in with an _in-betweener_.”

“... I-I'm sorry, what?”

“An in-betweener,” Flowey continued as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “If you really _are_ telling me the truth, then this is some very serious business.”

“What, exactly, is an 'in-betweener?'” he blinked, feeling as though Flowey wasn't going to explain until he was asked.

“Creatures not of this world,” Flowey spoke in hushed, whispered tones, causing him to lean in further just to hear him. “Not of this time. They _crawl_ their way out from the cracks between time to feast on the unaware before returning to the darkness, only to repeat the process all over again. Unthinking, unfeeling abominations, unstoppable killing machines with an unquenchable thirst for death...” his tone dropped lower and lower until he could barely hear him. He suddenly popped back up with a cheery smile. “Quite relatable actually! Tee hee.”

“That's... _unnerving_,” he shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

“Oh, I wouldn't worry about them,” Flowey's smile grew a bit wider. “Just don't do anything stupid like get their attention and you'll be _fine_. But I'm sure you're a smart fellow, Papyrus!” he patted him on the shoulder again before retracting his vines back into the ground.

“How do you know so much about these things? These... 'in-betweener' things?”

“I told you already, didn't I?” Flowey stuck out and winked. “I know _lots_ of things. Any time you need to know something, just come to your old pal Flowey! I can tell you _everything_ that you need to know about the world, bestie.”

“Do you know what 'save early, save often' means?”

And to his surprise, Flowey just laughed again.

“... What is it this time?”

“Where on earth did you hear that?” Flowey grinned up at him.

“... Somewhere,” Papyrus felt suddenly wary about revealing anything else about the human. Especially when Flowey seemed so convinced that Papyrus should put them down with a considerable amount of violence.

“You don't know what it means?”

“Well, that is why I'm asking,” he frowned.

“You heard it from the human, didn't you?”

“N-no,” he shifted uncomfortably.

“Papyrus,” Flowey only smiled at him a bit wider, revealing sharp looking canines. “Now, aren't we _best_ friends? And what _is_ it that friends don't _ever_ do to each other?”

“... Lie?”

“_Very_ good, Papyrus,” he continued as if speaking to a small child and Papyrus felt a hot rush of shame and the compulsion to look away, but the stealthy vine that had crept up his back kept his head forced in place. “Now, Papyrus. Did you hear that from the human?”

“Yes,” he admitted after a moment.

“See?” the vines retracted again and he breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Now, was that _really _so hard?”

“I'm just worried about them,” he rubbed his forearms, looking away.

“Oh, you have plenty of reason to be...” Flowey nodded a couple of times. “That thing is practically a vacuum, a dusting _machine_. I've seen them in the Ruins, you know. Not a very nice person. But back to the topic at hand.”

“But you don't have hands,” Papyrus pointed out, which Flowey promptly ignored.

Flowey propped himself up on his vine so that he was at eye level with Papyrus, earning a surprised yelp from the skeleton.

“Papyrus,” Flowey continued in a calm tone as if he hadn't sprouted a considerable height at all. “Despite everything, no matter what, you still can't _SAVE_, can you?”

“W-what are you talking about?” Papyrus stood up straight, but Flowey just kept on growing, taller and taller and taller, until he was even higher up than Papyrus's head. He stared down at him with a wide smile, his face darkened and eyes glistening.

“I'm talking about what you already know, silly!” Flowey said in that same rehearsed, empty little laugh. “You said you're reliving the same day over and over again, right?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“And it's the _human's _fault,” Flowey insisted, petals curling in as his stem bent at an unnatural angle, until he was head height with Papyrus, their faces only inches apart. He whispered in a low tone so that only he could hear, even though there was nobody else around. It took everything Papyrus had not to recoil, and he instinctively took a step back, snow crunching underfoot. “Listen to me, and listen _good_ Papyrus, because I'm only going to tell you this _once_. The engine of history is driven by _pain_. This isn't going to end, it isn't going to _stop_ until the human lies dead at your _feet_, understand? This is all. Their. Fault,” he punctuated each word by jabbing him in the chest with an extended vine, many more slithering out of the ground and whipping wildly and pounding the ground seemingly at random. “This is all just one big _game_ to them. They don't _care_ about you. Not _really_. You're just a _toy_ to them, a distraction, an _experiment_. Seeing what will happen this time if they do this, say this, do that. Don't you get it yet? They've been playing you for a _fool, _Papyrus. It's what they _do_. And what will you do, when they murder everyone that you know and love? They're an evil, manipulative cold blooded killer with no empathy or remorse, and when they're done with you they're going to throw you out with the rest of the _garbage_.”

Papyrus could only stand in stunned silence at Flowey's tirade, who slowly wound back down in circles all the way back into the ground, until he had retreated into nothing more than an innocuous little yellow smiling flower. But that smile seemed so much emptier than usual, so much blanker, so much colder. He could barely bring himself to breathe properly, let alone speak. All of his bones were trembling and his head was pounding, his soul was practically screaming inside him that something was very, very wrong.

“Let's just remember our little chat, hmm?” Flowey said as if he hadn't just warped into a nightmarish lanky figure of vines and tendrils.

“Su-sure. Sure thing Flowey,” Papyrus quickly croaked, crossing his arms, suddenly wishing that he had a coat or jacket or something, so that at least he had somewhere to stuff his violently shaking hands so that Flowey wouldn't see. But, he had the sinking feeling that, somehow or another, Flowey would still _know_.

“Have fun with that human, Papyrus!” he chirruped as if absolutely nothing was wrong. His smile grew a little _too_ wide then, canines glistening in the light, eyes sharpening. “See you soon.”

Papyrus was left all alone then, forced to come rather swiftly to terms with the idea that maybe, just _maybe_, he wasn't exactly the greatest judge of character in the Underground.

0-0-0-0-0

Once again, the human was late coming out of the Ruins. Papyrus was ready for them this time.

He sat on the rickety stool behind the sentry station, arms folded one over the other with his elbows on the wooden counter. He watched them steadily make their way over the bridge, jerky and rigid in their movements, constantly checking over their shoulder like they were being followed by someone. Or something. Papyrus could understand. He had previously been checking around himself for those big blue and yellow spacious things too, especially from the way that it had just _materialized_ the way it did, like it had been there the whole time and he just hadn't noticed was especially upsetting; a little bit of paranoia was certainly understandable. But the way Frisk kept checking over their shoulder every couple of seconds, he could see that their lips were moving even from where he sat. Were they... talking to someone? He couldn't really tell.

“Good morning,” he said loudly with a little wave, and they froze in their tracks. Frisk stared at him, eyes narrowed into slits, and they took another step away from him – at least, until he held up the paper bag and pointed to it, and they just stared at him for another ten seconds as if debating internally before meandering toward him with a determined expression.

“... You can't be serious,” Frisk stated.

“I brought you breakfast,” he passed them the bag of cinnamon treats, and they snatched it out of his hand immediately. He noticed that once again they had the knife in their grasp, and that sinking sensation crept back into his chest, but he tried to ignore it. “It's okay to make mistakes. You're only human, after all.”

“... But I _killed_ you,” Frisk looked back and forth between him and the bag, confused.

“W- I'm not going to _starve_ you,” Papyrus scoffed. “Good lord, I'm not _evil_. You're a growing child, you still need _breakfast_.”

“Oh. Oh my actual god, you're serious,” Frisk just kept on staring at him. “Don't you know anything about how this world works?”

“You know,” Papyrus leaned on his elbows and rubbed his temples wearily. “You'd be surprised at how often I hear that.”

“What a shocker,” Frisk said through a mouthful of pastry, scarfing them both down with a ravenous rapidity. They seemed confused when Papyrus held his hand out.

“... I already ate them both,” Frisk shrugged. “You want some, get your own.”

“Bag please,” he iterated.

“Why?”

“I don't want you throwing it on the ground.”

“... _Why._”

“Come on, Frisk. Don't be a litter bug.”

“Why do you _care_ so much?” Frisk balked at him, but handed him the bag regardless. He folded it up neatly and tucked it away inside the counter, along with some other things that Sans kept stored. He wasn't entirely surprised to find that his brother kept a store of condiments there. He probably kept them as a snack or something. Gross.

“Is anyone _else_ going to?” Papyrus asked tiredly. Frisk didn't answer immediately. “Well, there's your answer.”

“So...” Frisk shifted from foot to foot, “What are we gonna do today? Got anything new for me?”

“Are we really friends?”

Frisk paused mid-step. They slowly, cautiously, carefully planted both feet in the snow, pocket knife dangling between their fingers as they stared up at him. Their face was utterly devoid of emotion for the longest time, he didn't see them move, he didn't see them breathe, he didn't even see them _blink_.

“... Come on, man,” Frisk ran a hand over their face at the last moment, looking away from him. “Don't _do_ this to me right now.”

“Are we, though?” Papyrus asked softly. “Because you've been awfully unfriendly these last few jogs.”

“... Sorry, _jogs?_”

“I don't know what else to call these days,” he scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Reliving the same day, you know? Sometimes the day lasts the whole day through, sometimes it's only as long as, say, an exercising jog or something. You know. A jog.”

“I'd say it's more of a run,” Frisk shrugged.

“Well that doesn't make any more sense at all.”

“Tomato, to-mah-to.”

“Who the hell says to-mah-to?” Papyrus grinned at them.

“Did... did you just make a _joke_?” Frisk blinked.

“I think I did,” he admitted. “My self loathing grows by the day, I assure you.”

They both fell silent for a while, Frisk pointedly avoiding the prominent question that Papyrus was still awaiting an answer to. He sat on the edge of his seat, staring them down the whole time, and they seemed to shrink and wither before his constant gaze.

“... Yeah,” Frisk shrugged at long last, after an aching epoch of silence. “We... we are friends, Papyrus.”

“You look cold,” he said with a small frown. Frisk just shrugged again.

“It's not bad if you ignore it.”

“If you behave yourself I'll bring you some more hot chocolate tomorrow,” he offered. Frisk did seem to perk up considerably at that, but clearly tried not to show it. “Come on, human Frisk. Let's head home,” he picked himself up and held out a hand to them, which they took after only a moment of hesitation. He tried not to think about the dust on their hand or how it got there, swallowed and focused his gaze on the walk ahead. “Can I ask you a question, little one?”

“Shoot.”

“What does 'save early, save often' mean, anyway?”

“Oh. That,” Frisk didn't look at him as they walked side by side. “You really wanna know?”

“That _is_ usually the reason someone asks a question,” he gritted his teeth. Why was everyone being so difficult today? Or was it just him? It felt like his patience was wearing thin faster than usual lately.

“It's because of the resets,” they stated, stepping over a snowbank and leading the way, pulling him with them. “So I don't get sent too far back.”

“Resets?” he picked up the pace, mind abuzz.

“Redoing the same day?” Frisk stated. “That's what I call them, anyway. If I touch a SAVE point, it's supposed to mark my progress. Except, lately it hasn't been working right,” he could hear the frown in their voice. “Nothing has. It always goes all the way back to the beginning, every single day. I used to have _some_ control over it, and that helped. But now it's like something's gone wrong. _Everything_ is going _wrong_,” they sounded so distressed, so _frustrated_ that he wanted to just pick them up and hug them, though he undoubtedly knew that he'd probably get hurt for it. “And I don't know _why!_ I'm seeing all this weird ass crazy _shit_ lately and nobody cares or notices and I can't reset or save then _you_ show up and start spouting all your bullshit about peace and love and everyone I meet tries to kill me and then I have to start all over again and I can't _take_-”

“Okay okay _okay whoa!_” Papyrus bolted ahead of them and dropped to his knees, noting how red their cheeks were, how furiously they were crying. “Okay, okay _wow_ that is a _lot_ to unpack there,” he ran a hand over his head before internally saying screw it and throwing both arms around them and giving them the tightest gentle hug that he could manage. “I had no _idea_ you were going through so much all at once, holy _crap_ little one. Okay. Okay _wow_, um. Just-just one thing at a time, okay?” he pulled away and put his hands on their shoulders, trying his best to give them a reassuring little smile. “I _know_ things seem overwhelming right now, believe me, I _get_ it. But it's going to be _okay, _I promise. Okay?”

Frisk just stared at him through their tears before finally wiping them away with their sleeve.

“... Your relentless optimism might just be one of the most infuriating things about you.”

“I'll take that as a compliment,” he patted them on the head, earning a disgusted look from them. They bypassed all of the puzzles without a hitch, and the other monsters and sentries paid them little to no mind, Papyrus waving them all off. The only one that was even mildly interested in them was Doggo, and that was because they moved past his sentry station a little too quickly. Frisk made sure to stop and pet him on the head though, which seemed nice of them. Maybe there was a bit more good in them than he had previously thought. At least, until he realized that Frisk was petting Doggo while staying as still as possible, and Doggo was absolutely _freaking out, _and Papyrus decided that it was a good idea to take their hand again and keep moving.

Papyrus felt a soothing, calm sensation wash over him the very moment he saw the welcoming sight of Snowdin's town sign, and smelled that wonderful cinnamon scent wafting through the air coming from the general store. He took a deep breath through his nostril bones and felt himself relax just a bit, not realizing just how tightly he had been grasping Frisk's hand, how very tense he had been all the way here. Stars and stones, it was so _good_ just to be home.

“Didn't realize how much I missed Snowdin,” he said aloud as he marched a bit more quickly toward the house, bypassing a couple of rabbit monsters and waving to them on the way. “It's been an eventful day, you know?”  
“Tell me about it” Frisk grumbled. “Freaky shit going on all morning for me.”

“You need to watch your language,” he scolded them as he dug in his battle body for the house key, unlocking the front door. “You're far too young to be having a pirate mouth! How old _are_ you, anyway?”

Frisk just shrugged with an uttered 'uh-eh-uh' noise. The fact that they themself didn't know how old they were was mildly upsetting for some reason.

“Sans!” Papyrus called out as he closed the door behind them, taking off his heavy red boots as he tilted his head up to shout toward the upper floor. “Sans, I'm... I'm... home...”

Papyrus's marrow froze in his bones as he stared up at the ceiling, his eye sockets widening in shock and steadily dawning horror at the graffiti that had been seemingly carved and scratched and scrawled into literally every single square inch of the ceiling that he might have never even noticed at all if he hadn't bothered to just do the simple act of look upward. And it was all the same thing, the same sentence, the same phrase, over and over and over again and again and again.

_ **TIME FOR FUN.** _

0-0-0-0-0


	23. Heart To Heart

0-0-0-0-0

“Sans?” Papyrus bolted through the house, soul pounded through the house with still only one boot on, fearful for the life of his brother. Fearful that he would burst in the door, and find nothing but dust. Fearful that, even worse, he would be just _gone, _and he was never coming back. It was happening all over again right in his own home and there was nothing he could do about it.

_Please be alive please be alive please oh god if there is any god at all just let him be okay-_

“Sans oh _lord_, where are you?”

“Same place as yesterday,” he poked his head out of his bedroom door, and Papyrus felt such an immediate _rush _of intense relief and overwhelming swelling in his chest that he couldn't help himself, he wanted to _cry._ He picked up his surprised brother in his arms and hugged him, swinging him back and forth and clinging him as gently as he could to his chest.

“Oh my god Sans, don't _scare_ me like that!” Papyrus was on the verge of tears at this point. “I was so worried about you!”

“Worried?” Sans half-laughed and tried in futility to push himself off from Papyrus's face, eventually giving up and just letting himself be dangled. “Paps, you left me a note and told me ta take today off, remember? Now could ya quit swingin' me around like a frisbee, ya big jamook?”

“Sans,” Papyrus put him down carefully, holding him by the shoulders and looking him in the eyes. “I... I was worried about you.”  
“C'mon bro, you ain't gotta be worried about me,” Sans shrugged it off with that lazy grin of his, following him down the stairs. “I'd be a little more worried about that weirdo that just followed you into the house.”

“Oh!” Papyrus clapped a gloved hand to his forehead. “Right, right. Sans, this is human Frisk. Yes, yes, I caught a human, hurrah, hurray, yada yada we can celebrate later, we've kind of got stranger things going on right now.”

“Stranger things than some human falling into the Underground, huh?” Sans's eye lights never once left the human, and it was odd to watch them almost _shrink_ a little before his gaze. And then he pulled a ketchup bottle out from within his jacket and took a sip and Papyrus made a disgusted noise. “Oh. Sorry. You want some?”  
“Sans this is serious,” Papyrus folded his arms one over the other. “How could you have not noticed that someone had the audacity to graffiti our house?”

“What?” Sans paused mid drink, staring at him fully now. “When was this?”

“I don't know!” Papyrus threw up his arms, trying not to show just how badly he was rattled. “That's why I'm asking you!”

“Where at?”

Papyrus only stared at him for a moment before dragging a slow hand down his face. He then pointed directly upward at the ceiling, where that same strange sentence had been carved into literally every single square inch of the surface.

“... Paint looks fine to me,” Sans said after a moment. “Little flaky, sure. Could use a second coat.”

“SANS!” Papyrus stomped a foot against the ground, causing both him and Frisk to jump. “Are you seriously telling me that you don't see that?!”  
“See what?” Sans's brow bones furrowed just a bit, now mildly annoyed. “Look, Papyrus, I get that ya wanna keep the house in tip top shape, but is interior decorating _really_ at the top of your list of important things right now, considerin', you know, _hr-hrmm?_” he jabbed an elbow quite conspicuously at Frisk, who just gave him a dirty look.

“Sans,” Papyrus tried to keep the pleading tone out of his voice. “If this is a joke, it isn't very funny. I am being _serious_ here, brother! I'm talking about the freaky _writing_ on the _ceiling!_”

Sans looked to him, then the human, then back to him again.

He finally sighed and looked back up at the ceiling, squinting and gazing all over the ceiling, staring as hard as he could.

“... Uh...” he shifted after a long awkward stretch of silence. “Sorry, Paps. I'm just not seein' anything. I'd say I need ta get my eyes checked,” after a moment he shrugged with a wink. “But mine fell out ages ago, ehh?”

“But you _have_ to see it!” he was frantic at this point and he knew it, he knew it from the tone in his voice, the tightness in his chest, the subtle way that his own brother took a cautious step backwards away from him. “It's there, it's all there! You _have_ to see it, it's there! It's there, I _know_ it is!”

“Are... are you feelin' okay, Paps?” Sans asked in concern. His constant smile, normally so wide and lax, was strained and dipped, and it was clear from his expression that he was worried.

“... You really don't see it,” Papyrus deflated a little more moment by moment.

“Look, Paps...” Sans put a hand gently on his brother's elbow. “I know ya told me to take the day off, but it sounds like _you're_ the one that's overworked. I'm... I'm gonna head to my sentry stations, okay? Why don't ya take that break instead of me? Gotta keep the lights on somehow, y'know?”

“... Okay Sans,” Papyrus's head fell, defeated. He sighed and carefully placed a hand on his brother's shoulder before drawing him into a wary but tight hug. “Be... be safe, brother. I love you.”

“Bro if you get any mushier today people are gonna think we're Moldsmals,” Sans joked, but he could see the light's in his eye sockets warm and soften as he hugged him back. “I'll be back before ya know it, Paps.”

“... And pick up your damn phone this time!” Papyrus called after him as Sans chuckled and slipped out the door, a strong breeze of bitter snow flowing in from the chill outside. And then Papyrus was left standing alone with the human, feeling silly that he was still wearing just one boot and was fairly certain that he had just convinced his very own brother that he was going off the deep end.

“... Well,” Papyrus coughed awkwardly into one hand, kicking off his other boot and throwing it in the corner with the other. “Welcome home, I guess. That didn't go exactly how I had expected.”

“And now you know what I've been going through,” Frisk crossed their arms, leaning against the wall with what could only be described as an 'I told you so' expression.

“You've... you've been seeing things like... like this?” he gestured up at the ceiling, his mind a blur of questions. Why had Sans acted like that? Had he only been pretending not to see the carvings in the ceiling to avoid questions? Could he really not see them? Either way the answer seemed thoroughly disturbing.

“All over the place,” Frisk shrugged. “Nobody notices it. Nobody bothers. Nobody cares,” their shoulders slumped slightly and they looked so beaten down and bedraggled that he couldn't help but put a hand on their shoulder softly regardless of whether or not he got stabbed for it.

“Okay...” he pulled away and ran both his hands over his head, craning his neck up to check that the wording was still scrawled all over the ceiling, which it was. “Okay, so, we can chalk that up to one more mystery to solve. And you don't have _any _idea about this?”

“I literally _just _got to your house,” Frisk shot back defensively.  
“Okay, okay!” he held up his hands. “Let's... let's just try to logic our way through this, alright? Where else have you seen things like this?”

“All over the place in the Ruins,” Frisk crossed their arms, looking away from him. “Sometimes in different languages. It's always crazy talk, stabbed into the walls, or the floor. Everybody just kinda... ignores it. Like they can't even see it.”

“I see...” Papyrus ran a hand over his head. He had so very many _questions_. Why did it seem like each day he got up looking for answers and only found a dozen more questions? It was infuriating beyond belief. He wanted to know why the human seemed to be at the root of why he was forced to relive the same day time and again. He wanted to know why they insisted on warily stumbling out of the Ruins just looking lost some days, and others came shambling out covered in dust and swinging a knife like they were a professional butcher. Papyrus wanted to know more about those weird yellow things, and the concurrent creature that had been conjured seemingly because of it. What had Flowey called it? An 'in-betweener'? What did that even mean, where _exactly_ did they come from, could any of them be reasoned with, and somewhat more distressingly, how did _Flowey_ of all people know about them, if he hadn't been just pulling his leg bone for giggles?

It took Papyrus quite a while to realize that he had simply been standing in place, running his hand up and down the side of his head in irritation, before it finally clicked that the human was _still_ standing on the doormat, as if awaiting some kind of response from him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, shaking himself a little. “I get a little lost in my head sometimes. Forgot that I had a house guest. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Do you have any more hot chocolate?”

“Didn't I say I would only bring it to you tomorrow if you behaved yourself?” Papyrus reminded them as he led the way to the kitchen, and he could _feel_ the scowl on the back of his head. And when he turned around, sure enough, Frisk looked as sour as if they'd bitten right into a lemon.

“... Oh, come on, now,” he planted his fists on his hips. “There's really no need to make that kind of face. You know if you keep doing that, it'll stick that way.”

In a strange, _shifting_ kind of motion, all of the emotion drained from Frisk's face except for that of a single raised eyebrow, ever so slightly.

“What are you talking about?”

“Never mind,” he mumbled, deciding to cram it into the steadily overflowing mental cabinet of things to deal with later. “Just sit tight, human Frisk. I'll make us some something, maybe some nice hot tea, and then we need to talk.”

“Do we _have_ to?” Frisk whined.

“_YES!_” Papyrus _snapped, _his head whipping so hard toward them that it actually _cracked_. Frisk's mouth slammed shut and they nodded once, face paling as they wordlessly and rapidly took a seat at the table, hands folded neatly one over the other atop the worn polished wood. Papyrus could only rub his temples with two fingers and sigh internally, mentally kicking himself. Was this his best? Was this _really_ where he was at in his life? Shouting at a child because his nerves were worn thin? Just because he was nearly at his wits end didn't mean that he should just throw all manners and decency out the window. What kind of monster was he even turning into? The fact that he didn't have a clear or concrete answer to that question was particularly concerning for reasons that he really didn't want to contemplate. So he did his best to clear his mind, busying himself around the kitchen. At least if his hands were busy his mind hopefully wouldn't begin wandering back to those awful places that seemed to be becoming ever more common the longer that this day kept repeating. He shook that thought off too and boiled the water, pulling the box of golden flower tea out of the cabinet. He really should thank Undyne for that particular investment. He could barely stand the taste of the stuff at first, but, after a while, just like the human, it was starting to grow on him.

_Like a tumor._

“Here you are, little one,” he cautiously placed a steaming teacup before the human. They didn't touch it at first, just staring at the little swirls and lines of whirling vapor wafting up before them. “... It helps if you blow it off a little first.”

Frisk attempted to do so and blew a good portion of the tea all over the table.

“Gross,” he deadpanned, grabbing a towel from the counter top to clean up their mess. “Not  _ that _ hard, human, jeez.” he poured himself a cup and sat across from them, simply taking in the scent of the golden flower tea and letting the aroma fill him for a few long moments before finally taking a drink. It sang through his bones and he could already feel himself starting to soothe a little bit. Or at least, as much as he could, all things considered. He would have felt a bit more comfortable on the couch with the nice soft plush cushions instead of their rickety, creaky wooden chairs, but honestly Papyrus wasn't really in the mood to go back into the living room. At all. Right now all he wanted to focus on was the multitude of questions bouncing around his head, and his  tête-à-tête  with a frustratingly uncooperative human.

“... This feels familiar, doesn't it?” Frisk asked after a moment, taking a sip from their tea. 

“What do you mean?”

“You know,” Frisk gestured in his general direction. “This. Just the two of us. What do you think?”

“It's... nice,” he placed his half empty teacup down, twirling it between his phalanges. “I suppose. Maybe. It's not so bad.”

“Yeah, that was my thought too,” they nodded, all the while staring at him with an unreadable expression. It was a little off putting. “Stuff like this, even if it's just little things, it's... _nice_. That's what I don't _get_ about you,” Frisk pushed their tea to the side, resting their forearms on the table and leaning forward, and suddenly it was Papyrus that felt as though he were being interrogated. “Given everything that I've done – hell, the number of times I've _killed_ you; you just never seem to stop, do you? Hell, you've been downright _hospitable_, even after everything I've done. So I just wanna know...”

Frisk stared at him for the longest time, crimson eyes narrowed to determined slits, boring a hole right through him.

“... _Why_?” Frisk eventually asked in a much quieter tone. “Why are you like this?”

“Well,” Papyrus leaned tiredly on the table, trying not to rub the lines under his eye sockets. “I suppose that I could ask you the exact same question, now couldn't I?”

Frisk didn't seem to have a ready answer for that.

“Half the time you come out of the Ruins happy as a bumblebee in a briarpatch,” Papyrus frowned quizzically, and they wouldn't meet his gaze anymore “And the other half of the time you come out covered in dust, shambling around like a puppet on a string and trying to fill me full of more holes than a colander. Why?”

“I asked first,” Frisk stated stubbornly, crossing their arms.

Papyrus only sighed and rubbed his temples, feeling one of those awful, powerful sensations of dejavu beginning to wash over him again. He did his best to ignore it, but it was so intense that no matter what, he felt like he was going to have to fight his way through it.

“Let me answer your question with a question. Do you believe that everyone can be a good person?”

Frisk did not have the reaction that he had been expecting. In fact, instead of speaking in turn, they fell completely and utterly silent, going stiff as a board. The only thing about them that moved, that he could tell anyway, was their eyes. Ever so slightly widened, flickering back and forth across his face, as if searching for answers that were not easily forthcoming.

“... It doesn't matter,” Frisk said after a moment, glancing away from him.

“But it does,” Papyrus leaned forward gently, reaching out and placing a hand atop theirs. They froze again and stared at him, and he felt the increasingly worried _screaming_ in his head that he was about to get stabbed again rounding up, but he did his best to push it down along with the rest of the voices that were making themselves known all too frequently lately. “It _does_ matter. I really do believe it, human. _Frisk,_” he corrected himself. “I believe that everyone can be a good person, if they just try. And even if nobody else does, please, please remember this. I _believe_ in you. I _know_ that you can do a little bit better. If... if you gave it the chance. If you just try. So to answer your question, it's because I believe we can _all _do a little better. And I want to be just a bit better, every day. And I know that you can, too.”

Frisk pulled away from him then, tucking their hands under their armpits and staring away at something on the floor, but it was clear from the deep flush in their cheeks that they were thrown off.

After a short while, they actually laughed and ran a hand through their shaggy hair, giving him an odd, small, lopsided grin.

“You really are a fuckin' weirdo,” Frisk shook their head. They took another sip of their tea and finished it off before sticking out their tongue. They twirled the cup through their fingers by the handle distractedly for a few seconds, leaning with their elbow on the table and their head in their hand. “You wanna know something crazy?”

“I'm pretty sure my day could not possibly get any crazier,” Papyrus leaned forward to listen closely to them.

“Did you know that you are the only one who has _never_ killed me?”

Papyrus blinked, suddenly uncertain. He leaned back in his rickety chair and it creaked from the weight, his eye socket's narrowing.

“I'm... not entirely certain that I want to follow your train of thought,” he chose his next words carefully.

“Everyone else has killed me,” Frisk continued, still without looking at him, just twirling the empty teacup over and over. “Literally everyone I've ever met down here has tried to kill me, and every single one of them has succeeded at least once.” they looked up at him with a strange look in their eyes, something that he couldn't identify. “... Everyone except you. You. You, out of all people, are the _only_ one in the entire Underground who has never, _ever_ killed me. No matter what.”

Papyrus wanted to speak, he honestly did. He wanted to say something comforting, something confident, something inspirational. Something to soothe their obviously troubled spirit. Something brave and kind and good to say that would bring a real, genuine smile back to their face, not that sad, forced facsimile.

And instead, all he could do was sit in stunned silence, staring at the little human across from him, as if they hadn't just admitted to being murdered by literally everyone that they had ever met.

“... I'm sorry.”

“What?”

“I'm so sorry,” he repeated softly, feeling as though a golf ball were lodged in his throat. “I truly am so, so sorry little one. I knew that you had been going through this... _day_ longer than I have. But... but I had no _idea_ the extent of the things you must have been through,” he ran a hand over his head, leaning back and trying not to cry. “You know? I... I really, truly don't blame you,” he said honestly, wiping his eye sockets with the back of his gloves. “Nyeh. Heh. I mean, after being stuck in a time loop long enough, _anybody_ would go a little bonkers. So, no. I really don't hold it against you. Even though you've... killed me. Quite a few times,” he rubbed the latest invisible mark across his chest where the human had quite literally split him in half. “I forgive you.”

“Do you really mean that?” Frisk asked skeptically. “Mercy only goes so far down here, you know. I mean, I could kill you right now, if I wanted. I could dust you with my bare hands if I really put effort into it.”

“I know,” Papyrus sighed and held his head in his hands for a moment before looking back up to them with a sharp look. “But if you kill me again I am going to be _very_ disappointed in you.”

For some reason, Frisk just silently laughed and shook their head. They pushed their tea cup away and kicked their feet up on the table, whether that was out of bad mannerisms or if they were deliberately attempting to annoy him he couldn't tell.

“You are the strangest... _person_ I've met in a long time,” Frisk folded their arms over their chest, but that tiny smile remained. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

“I feel like we still need to discuss some things,” Papyrus folded his hands in his lap, leaning forward intently. “About the resets.”

That seemed to cause Frisk some distress, to say the least. They pulled their feet from the table and pulled into themselves, like they were trying to curl into a ball while sitting up, and shot him a stubborn look.

“Why does it matter?”

“It matters a _lot_,” Papyrus did his best to remain patient, reminding himself that he was talking to a child (granted, a slightly manic and murderous child who had been at the reigns of his demise on multiple occasions) and they had made some serious mistakes, but a child nonetheless. “Listen,” he paused cautiously. “There are things going on here that neither of us seem to have a full grasp on. Weird occurrences that can't just be random. We both seem to be seeing things that nobody else seems to see right now, which is weird enough...” he rubbed the back of his head. “But I actually had a different question. The last time we, er... _fought_.”

“The last time I killed you,” Frisk corrected without a hint of remorse, giving him an odd stare.

“Sure. That,” he drummed his fingertips across the table, thinking. “You said some very strange things about, well. Rules. What exactly was that all about?”

“Part disbelief,” Frisk shrugged. “Part psychotic meltdown. Sorry about that whole thing, by the way,” they rolled one shoulder, sounding as if they had done nothing more than track a bit of mud on the floor on the way in. “I had a _really_ bad run that day. Kinda used you as my punching bag, I guess.”

“I'd appreciate it if you didn't take out your frustrations via murder,” Papyrus pinched the bridge of his nostril bone. “You're clearly not an idiot, and capable of having a civilized discussion. So... why?”

“I thought that if I killed you I could get back control of the timeline properly,” they explained casually.

“No, not the murder thing,” he stared them down. “I _mean_, why were you so upset about rules? What rules are we talking about here? _Are_ there any actual rules to this whole...” he gestured helplessly for a moment. “_Day_ that we seem to be stuck in?”

Frisk finally pulled their feet off the table, no longer looking at him. They crossed and uncrossed their arms several times, tongue in cheek, looking as though they were struggling just to speak.

“... Papyrus,” Frisk sighed eventually, giving up crossing their arms and settling for folding them one over the other on the table, leaning on their elbows. “You _must_ have figured it out by now. In this world, it's kill or be killed. You can't just go around – look,” Frisk leaned in a bit closer, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed. “I really thought that you knew more than you were telling me, okay? Only one person can control the timeline at a time. I thought it was _your_ fault for a while.”

“Me?” he pointed a finger at himself. “Are you _kidding_? I'd give _anything_ just to get through one freakin' day!” Papyrus was getting agitated again and he knew it, but he could barely contain it any longer. “Are you telling me that every single time we have to start this day over, it's been _you_ doing it?”

“That's not what I meant,” Frisk corrected him, leaning back in their own chair and crossing their arms over their chest, almost defensively. “Normally, I have this... _ability_. I can find certain spots, and then when I die, I start from that point. But instead,” Frisk's frown deepened. “Instead, it's not _working_ anymore, nothing I do _works_. I have to start all the way back from where I first fell into the mountain. Every single day.”

“So it sounds like we're at an impasse,” Papyrus held his head in his hands, his headache only growing worse. “Neither of us can really control what's going on. Neither of us can really say _how_ we're supposed to get things back to normal, either. So,” he rubbed the side of his head awkwardly. “We're both just kind of stuck in the middle with each other.”

“Joy,” Frisk stated expressionlessly. “Trapped with you. Fantastic. This is actual hell. I'm in _hell_.”

“Oh, it's really not so bad!” he did his best to cheer them up a little. “I mean, _sure_, things might seem a little, well, _bleak,_” Papyrus forced on a smile, no matter how much it hurt. “But I'm sure that we can get through this together! After all,” he pressed a hand to his chest, sitting up taller. “Now you can rely on the astounding assistance of the Great Papyrus! Nyeh heh heh.”

“You are so completely full of shit,” Frisk stared at him, but he spotted the tiny smile on their lips regardless. “But, sure. Whatever cranks your gears, man.”

“I'm not entirely sure what that means, but I'll take it as a good thing!” he was _finally_ starting to relax a little. “More tea?”

“God no. It tastes like a tree grew an asshole.”

“Oh my _lord_ you have got a terrible potty mouth,” Papyrus's brow bones knitted together. “Where does someone so little even _get_ that kind of language?”

“Surface,” Frisk shrugged simply. “Be grateful that you're down here and not up there. Humans suck.”

“... I think you'd like Undyne,” he suggested after a moment. “She's got a thing against humans, too.”

“I know,” Frisk deadpanned. “You have no idea the number of times that bitch has skewered me like a Frisk-kabob.”

“I would _appreciate_ it,” Papyrus said through gritted teeth. “If you didn't call my friend that again.”

“What, a bitch?” Frisk nabbed the opportunity to wear his patience just a bit thinner. “You _do_ realize that she's killed me probably more than just about anybody else, right?”

“I will admit,” he was thoroughly uncomfortable now. “Undyne can be a little... _intense._”

“That's _one_ word for it,” Frisk snorted. “I can't even step foot in Waterfall anymore without getting the flashbacks.”

“... I'm sorry,” he sighed again. “Yeah. She's... Undyne isn't very good at subtlety.”

“No shit,” they shook their head. “Took me forever to get past her before, and that was when I could at least _SAVE_. Now I don't even have that,” Frisk's head _thunked_ against the table. “Ugh, _god_ like I didn't have enough fucking _problems_.”

“I am quite serious about that language of yours,” he scolded them, though his heart just wasn't in it. “I do have another question though.”

“_Still?_” Frisk groaned, pinching the bridge of their nose. “Do you _ever_ just _stop_?”

“Remember that thing that came after us?” he pried, and Frisk started to steadily grow stiller. “When we both touched that glow-y yellow thing. That big scary looking thing with lots of mouths?”

“How could I _forget_?” they scoffed. “I've been _trying_ not to remember ever since it happened.”

“You don't know anything about them?”

“Never seen anything like it,” Frisk shook their head a couple times, hair whipping with the motion. “And before you ask, no, I don't ever want to again.”

“They're called 'in-betweeners', I believe,” Papyrus began slowly, and Frisk's gaze sharpened. “Some kind of monster; I mean, if it even _is_ a monster – that, well... from what I'm told, come from _cracks_ in between time. They come out to eat every now and then.”

“In between _time_,” Frisk repeated numbly. “How would you even know that? And besides, why did it show up just to kill _us?_”

Papyrus ran a hand up and down his face, thinking heavily.

“I have this theory,” he started slowly. “Those little yellow things-”

“SAVE points,” Frisk interjected.

“Okay, fine, whatever you want to call them,” he continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. “Those 'points'. That big time creature _thing_ didn't show up whenever _you_ touched one of the points. They didn't show up when _I_ tried,” he steepled his phalanges together, staring at them. “They only showed up when we _both_ touched it at the same time. So, then, maybe-”

“No,” Frisk demanded instantly. “I know what you're thinking, and the answer is no. That is a big fucking _no_ from me. No, absolutely not,” Frisk glowered at him. “I mean, _Jesus_, you can't possibly be serious. What if that thing shows up again?”

“Maybe it was just hungry last time?” he proffered. “Though that still doesn't explain the cameras...”

“Cameras?” Frisk blinked, actually looking a little surprised.

“A good doctor friend of mine has cameras set up all over the place in case a human shows up,” he admitted, feeling as though he had just betrayed a vital piece of information which he very much should not have. “But the thing is, they _all_ went out at the same time the very same day that in-betweener attacked us. As a matter of fact,” Papyrus rubbed the back of his head, now deep in thought. “I've been seeing weird, unexplained things a _lot_ more often ever since it got the jump on us...”

Frisk didn't speak, but they did silently nod once.

“So... you think that this 'in-betweener' might have something to do with all of this?” Frisk asked after a stretch of silence.

“Stars and stones, I _hope_ not,” he refilled his teacup and downed half of it in one go. “If I never meet another one of those things in the rest of my life, it'll still be too soon.”

“I have an... idea,” Frisk shifted in their seat as if uncertain, not looking at him for the longest time. They finally met his gaze, letting out a long breath and blowing the hair from their eyes. “I've been through the Underground before. I know how to get around. But I haven't seen _everything_. So there's gotta be somewhere I haven't been yet, something _somewhere_ that can make all of this stop. Right?”

_It isn't going to stop until the human lies dead at your feet._

“... Papyrus?”

“What?” he blinked, giving himself a little shake. “Sorry, sorry about that. Getting lost in my head again,” he laughed self-consciously. “You sounded like you had something in mind.”

“I might have...” Frisk stared off at the wall for a minute before sighing and hanging their head. “Probably won't work though. Stupid dog absorbs it every goddamn time.”

Papyrus had no idea what they were talking about, but he still felt the urge to pat them on the shoulder and console them.

“Well,” Papyrus said at last, after a long stretch of uneasy silence. “Until we get this all figured out, you're welcome to stay here, human Frisk.”

“You serious?” Frisk blinked, red eyes widening a little. “Because you _do_ remember how many times I've killed you, right?”

There are stipulations,” he held up a finger, and they sank in their seat.

“And _there_ it is.”

“No murder,” he shook his finger dangerously at them. “Absolutely no killing if you want to stay here.”

“Or what?” they smirked.

“Or I'll charge you rent,” Papyrus said seriously. For some reason, this seemed to send Frisk into a little laughing fit. They just shook their head, grin widening just a bit. They wiped a tear from their eye and leaned back in their rickety seat, still grinning.

“You know what?” Frisk tilted their head to the side with a tiny smile. “This whole thing has been batshit crazy, my whole life has turned backwards and upside down, and every day gets a little weirder. But, if I'm gonna be trapped in an existential living hell, at least it's with an asshole that's somewhat tolerable.”

“Touché, human.”

They spent the rest of the morning repainting the living room ceiling together.

0-0-0-0-0


	24. Suicide Is Painless

0-0-0-0-0

The klaxon sound of an alarm clock was not something that Papyrus wanted to wake up to. But could he really call it waking up if he had never technically fallen asleep at all? He felt as though he hadn't slept in weeks. He remembered spending all morning painting with the human, and wearily rubbed the tiredness from his eyes without getting up. A small smile came to his face as he recalled the little smiley skeleton face that they had painted into the ceiling, over the carved up wording plastered all over the surface. That had been... unexpectedly sweet of them. They didn't seem to care much for the spaghetti though. The last thing he remembered was slipping into blissful oblivion of half aware wakefulness as they watched a rerun of one of Mettaton's early movies. No dreams, only darkness.

He didn't get up, not immediately. He already knew what day it would be when he checked the calendar, and sighed inwardly when he was correct in his assumptions. Still Tuesday. He lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling, fingers drumming across his chest as he thought. All things considered, yesterday hadn't been altogether terrible. True, he had gotten a horrendous fright when he returned home to find that... _oddity_, but at least his family was okay. Everyone in town was okay. Nobody got dusted, nobody was injured, everything went relatively _okay_.

So why did he still feel that awful creeping sensation that something was very, very wrong?

Papyrus sighed and ran a hand down his face, phalanges latching onto his eye socket and pulling habitually as he tried to think. There _had_ to be a way through to tomorrow. Right? Had he just been looking in the wrong places? And why was it that every time he woke up it always felt like his mind was a jumble? His head ached and pounded, but he did his best to ignore it. Something there was wrong, something he couldn't quite pin down. Something _bothering_ him like he should be able to tell the difference, like there was someone just outside of his field of vision, just... _watching_. It was unnerving, to say the least. So he busied himself with dressing instead, automatically checking off the date on the calendar. Tight fitting pants and a black undershirt, then the battle body. For some reason, as he strapped on his boots and slipped on his gloves, that feeling crept back in. Like his clothing didn't fit _quite_ right, like it was a little bit off in places that he couldn't identify. Something deeper than that; he felt like a stranger in his own bones. Like they weren't jointed together correctly, like he was only being just barely held together by stubbornness rather than health. He gave himself a once over in the mirror, glancing up and down. There were still lines under his eye sockets, and his shoulders were a bit stooped, but the lights in his eye sockets were as bright as ever. He took in a deep breath and puffed himself up, puling his scarf back and wrapping it around.

And then he let his breath out and the facade all came crashing down. He didn't look like some super hero or magnificent dashing rogue, he just looked _tired_. And he was, too. Papyrus woke up each morning with the intense urge to simply go back to sleep, to just roll over and curl up under the blankets, and try his best to wait out this craziness by just getting some actual _rest_. But it never did feel like he was rested, even when he slept. He always woke up tired, sore and aching. Sometimes he felt as though he had always been like this, just without knowing it. He rubbed his face and tried his best to shake off the doubt, stealthily making his way downstairs so as to avoid waking Sans. It was still early, he had some time before the human showed up. He dug around in the kitchen for the longest time until he found what he was looking for. An old banged up thermos was valiantly retrieved from one of the cabinets, and it took some more searching but he finally found what he was looking for. Behind the box full of golden flower tea, tucked away behind the dented tin of coffee, there were a couple of paper packages that Papyrus had salvaged and been saving for a special occasion. But he figured that he at least owed the human that much; besides, they might even appreciate it, and be less likely to stab him. It hurt when they did that.

So Papyrus set about heating water on the kettle, checking his phone in the meanwhile. He sent a quick message to Doctor Alphys, who sent him back a message a mere minute later.

_Yea this is Alphys whats up_

_I need you to write down a number,_ he texted swiftly.  _The very first number that comes to mind, just find a pen and paper and write it down._

Papyrus waited a minute then texted her the exact number that she had chosen, the same one that it was every time. She didn't text back for a full five minutes, and by that time Papyrus had already calmly filled the banged up old thermos full of hot chocolate, with enough left over for a single cup. He took the time to write him a little note and stuck it under the cup on the table, hoping that Sans wouldn't mind too much that he'd used their only stores of cocoa.

_Call me._

“Good morning,” Papyrus stated after she picked up the phone. “You've reached the skeleton residence, please leave a message after the sound of sexy. _Nyeh_,” he gripped the thermos under one arm and quietly made his way outside, where he could speak a bit louder without fear of waking his brother.

“P-Papyrus?” Alphys asked worriedly. “How... how did you do that? Are you spying on me or something?”

“Nope,” he said as he marched confidently through the mostly empty Snowdin, some rather unpleasant memories resurfacing when he'd really rather they stay buried. “Doctor Alphys, I'm trapped in a time loop and I need your help.”  
“... You're joking, r-right?”

“You lost your favorite spanner wrench working on Mettaton,” Papyrus stated as he continued on past the library, and knelt down in the snow near the general store where that little yellow glimmer was. What had Frisk called it? A 'save'? Nothing happened when he touched it, but at least it made the shouting in the back of his head to pick it up die down a little. “You spent two days digging around your lab until you realized that you left it in the drawer with your other tools, you never lost it at all.”

“... Oh my god,” Alphys's tone crackled after a moment. “Pa-Papyrus, _how_-”

“Because you told me,” he explained wearily, making his way past the Snowdin welcome sign. “In another timeline you confided in me that bit of information. I've been reliving the exact same day for weeks now,” Papyrus readjusted his grip on the thermos, careful not to drop it as he marched onward to his sentry station. “So, can I count on you to help me out with some problems?”

“Yes?” came the stuttered reply. “I-I mean, yeah – yes, sure, of course,” Alphys sputtered. “A-anything I c-can do...?”

“Would you happen to know anything about cracks in time?” Papyrus waved to Doggo, who was already stationed at his post, looking bored and smoking a dog biscuit, but eventually waved back when he spotted the motion.

“L-like, do you h-have any specifics?” Alphys's tone sounded quieter and quieter for a little while, and he could hear the clicking and clacking of keys on the other end. “T-that's pretty v-vague.”

“In another timeline,” he chose his next words thoughtfully. “I encountered an... _anomaly_.”

“Like, w-what kind?”

“It ate me,” he explained casually, and he could almost hear the flinch. “Looked like a walking nightmare, tore me to shreds, quite painful. I actually need to know if you know anything about 'in-betweeners'.”

“I-I'm sorry, what?” Alphys paused for a moment. “What does that mean?”

Papyrus put the thermos down atop the sentry station desk, clearing away some of the snow and making himself comfortable at the seat.

“I was hoping that you might know something about them,” a small frown began to form on his features.

“I h-have no idea what you're t-talking about-”

“It's quite alright, doctor,” he held up a hand without realizing it and felt a bit foolish. “I have some theories and a hypothesis or two to test. I'm actually meeting a friend in a little bit, you should see them on the camera you have planted at the entrance to the Ruins. The one on the little metal stand in the bushes?”

He heard more clicking of keys and he heard a confirmatory sound from her.

“Got it,” she stated. “B-but why that o-one?”

“My friend is human,” he explained, and Alphys fell silent for a little bit.

“... A human,” she repeated, and he nodded once.

“I'm not the only one that remembers reliving this day, Doctor Alphys,” he ran a hand over his head habitually. “The human remembers too. We've both been reliving this exact same day for nearly a month now.”

“The anomalous diversions from the primary timeline could incite absolutely devastating results,” he heard Alphys mumble. “G-good god, Papyrus, this-this is huge!”

“I'm not quite sure I follow,” there was that uneasy sensation of being watched again. “Can you explain, please?”

“I-it's like this,” Alphys sounded as if she were typing even faster. “My theory is tha-that every time the timeline diverges, it creates a new temporal subdivision within itself to compensate for quantum-”

“_English_, doc,” Papyrus snapped and rubbed his temples wearily. “Please, I am begging you here.”

“S-sorry,” she mumbled again, and he could tell from her tone that she was shrinking back. “Basically, y-you remember d-different timelines f-f-for a reason. Are you fam-familiar with the theory of quantum suicide?”

“No?” he blinked and leaned forward on his seat, resting his elbows on the still wet sentry station.

“It's a quantum mechanics thought experiment,” Alphys explained, and he noted how her stutter seemed to deteriorate the more fervently she attempted to explain something she seemed to care about. It brought a small smile to his face for some reason. But then his full attention went to her query, and he listened intently as she continued. “In theory, it exemplifies the many-worlds theory, or the theory that there are actually many timelines interconnected and weaving together. Quantum particles, or quarks, are spinning in multiple directions at the same time, despite this being physically impossible; essentially, say you were in a life threatening situation – in one timeline, you survive, but in another, you don't. You would be considered both dead _and _alive simultaneously until proven otherwise, each timeline branching. Each has a drastically different result, and for every moment that passes where a choice or difference is available, the universe will continue to split in two, again and again and again, meaning that remembering the previous timelines would result in even _further_ variations ad infinitum! Isn't that amazing?”

Papyrus could only sit in stunned silence for a while, scratching the back of his head for a moment before sighing.

“... Look, doc, I'm going to be honest,” he shifted in his seat. “I can barely make my own meals, let alone adequately discuss the finer points of quantum mechanics,” Papyrus admitted somewhat sheepishly. “You're clearly the genius here, I was... kind of hoping that you'd have some answers, and every day I just get more questions.”

“I-I-I wo-wouldn't say _g-genius,_” he could _feel_ the heat coming from her over the phone.

He heard a sharp _crack_ and he sat up promptly, now fully alert.

“... Alphys, I'll call you back, I've gotta go.”

“I-is everything alright?”

Papyrus hung up before he could bring himself to answer. He looked about for the human coming down the road, but they still weren't here yet. He stood and carefully wove his way around the front of the sentry station, eye sockets peeled. He listened intently to the sounds of the forest as best he could. The chirrup of the occasional bird from far away. The gentle breeze blowing through the clearing. Everything seemed so normal. So peaceful. So calm.

Something was very, very wrong.

Papyrus couldn't quite put his finger on _what_, but it was that same creeping sensation he got when he woke up first thing in the morning. That feeling he got when he was being watched.The feeling he got when staring into a dark space without any light. The feeling he got when standing on the edge of a very tall cliff and looked down over the edge. A sinking, unpleasant feeling in the bottom of his chest, a screaming in the back of his head that there was something that he wasn't seeing, something unnoticed, something not quite _right_.

“... Come on out,” he called aloud, planting his fists on his hips with a forced bravado. “Come on. I know you're there.”

“You're getting better at this,” Flowey said from between his feet, and Papyrus _shrieked_ and jumped up, leg hiked up almost all the way to his chest. He tried to pass it off as an intense coughing fit and quickly put his foot back down, his soul pounding in his chest so loudly that he could feel it thrumming in every bone in his body.

“How. Many times,” Papyrus cleared his throat, trying to keep the embarrassed blush off his face. “Do I have to _tell_ you, Flowey. _Please_ don't do that.”

“Waiting on the human?” Flowey inquired, and Papyrus nodded once. “Boy, you must sure be intent on catching that thing, huh?”

“So,” Papyrus began, crossing his arms over his chest. “How long have you been watching me, Flowey?”

“Long enough,” he inspected the tip of a vine as if it were fingernails, withdrawing it back into the earth and grinning up at him. Papyrus's frown deepened. The fact that he had heard the entire private conversation felt like it had tainted it somehow. “Sounds like you've been busy, huh, Papyrus?”

“Flowey, I _really_ don't like it when you spy on me...” Papyrus frowned, brow bones narrowing downward.

“Which is a shame,” Flowey leaned from side to side, that same empty smile still on his face. “Because I'm _great_ at espionage. Speaking of which,” he sounded almost as if he had rehearsed that. “I've been watching that human in the Ruins. They'll be here soon, Papyrus. You do realize what they're going to do to you, right?”

“They won't misbehave,” he sounded unsure of himself, and he knew it. “They'll see reason.”

“Reason?” Flowey laughed humorlessly. “A cold blooded killer like that? Papyrus, that's _suicide, _have you lost it altogether?_”_

Papyrus felt his marrow run cold. They had already been dusting monsters in there, while he stood around and blabbed on the phone? He wanted to be ill.

“And then what?” Flowey leaned backwards, tilting his face up to him and smirking. “You'll invite them over for tea and biscuits and everything will be _fine_, right?”

“W-well-”

“Because I can tell you right now,” Flowey looked almost _smug_, and it irritated him to no end. “They're going to come right through here with murderous intent. Doesn't that bother you at all, Papyrus?”

“Of _course_ it bothers me!” he threw his arms up in frustration. “Do you have any idea how many times I've been killed by them already?”

“Do _you?_” Flowey asked with a smile. Papyrus started to answer before he deflated, his arms dropping to his sides. In fact, no, he did not know exactly how many times that they had killed him. It had become such a regular occurrence in his life that he had just sort of accepted at one point or another that death was inevitable and part of the day, preferably to be avoided. He ran a hand over his head and down his face, blowing a long breath through his teeth.

“They aren't going to stop, you realize that, right?” Flowey advised him quietly, urging him closer. “After they kill you, they'll keep going right on to Snowdin, they aren't going to quit. And, golly gosh, I would just _hate_ to see you get _hurt,_” Flowey's vine wrapped around his wrist and slithered up his arm, pulling him closer to the little flower monster. Papyrus shifted uneasily, unable to free himself from the earthy grasp, but Flowey continued.

“So, let me give you some _advice_, Papyrus...” his smile sharpened and revealed his canines. “They'll tell whatever lies they have to just to pull one over on you. So do yourself a favor and kill them before they can talk.”

“Flowey that's _awful_!” Papyrus tried to jerk away but the vine kept him trapped in place. “I'm not just going to attack someone on sight!”

“Then they'll walk right through your dust,” Flowey tittered. “They won't even slow down to wipe you off their shoes.”

“Flowey, these-these horrible things you're saying,” he stammered, still trying to gently pull away but incapable of doing so. “What has gotten into you lately? The human really isn't so bad, if you would just give them a chance-”

“And how many chances is it going to take, hmm?” Flowey's smile grew unnaturally wide. “How many times are they going to have to kill you before you realize it? There's only one way out, Papyrus, and you _know_ what it is. Sooner or later you'll have to fight for what you believe in. Or will you just give up and accept it? Don't you realize that it's going to take more than just fighting back?”

Papyrus could only sigh and slump forward, caving in and giving up altogether trying to escape his grip. He was just so _weary_. His head ached, his bones hurt, he just felt so overwhelmed that he could barely contain it.

“Aww, come on, best buddy, don't go crying on me!” Flowey pipped cheerfully, and Papyrus wiped his face with his free hand. “Just think of it as self defense, totally morally justifiable!”

“Flowey,” Papyrus rubbed his face a couple of times. “I'm just... I'm _exhausted_.”

“Oh?”

“I keep doing this every day,” his voice started to crack despite his best efforts. “And every day, I tell myself that this time, _this _time it's going to be better. And I just don't know how much longer I can keep doing it,” he explained wearily. “I feel like I've been pulled at both ends too much and stretched thin as paper. I'm just... I'm just so _tired_.”

“Aw, you poor thing,” Flowey pulled him to his knees and patted him roughly on the back a couple of times with an extended vine. “You sound like you've really had a tough go of it, huh?”

“And things just get _weirder_!” Papyrus wanted to shout, his throbbing head not doing any good. “Huge creatures from outside of time, I'm getting bizarre messages carved into my house, I'm seeing things that nobody else _sees_, Flowey – oh god, what if I really am going crazy?” his breathing hitched in his chest, his throat tightening the harder he tried to ignore it.

“Gosh, it certainly sounds like it,” Flowey stated simply. “You can't even trust your own mind anymore, can you, buddy?”

Papyrus didn't really have an answer to that.

“But that's why you have _me,_ silly!” he laughed in that rehearsed little tone again. “Your old pal Flowey wouldn't leave you out to dry! Even if you _are_ completely insane,” Papyrus felt like crying all over again. “And you _do_ realize just how you sound, right? Are you _sure_ you haven't gone off the deep end, buddy?”

“I'm not crazy!” Papyrus insisted. “I'm not, I'm not crazy, I swear!”

“If you say so,” Flowey released him from his grasp then, vines snaking their way back into the snow. “I heard your conversation with Doctor Alphys. Even she thinks you're crazy, you know.”

“But I'm _not!_” he stood fully, fists clenching and unclenching. “I-I mean... I don't _think_ so, so-so...”

And Flowey just gave that quiet little laugh. Papyrus hung his head and tried to steady his breathing, shoulders slumping as his arms went limp.

“You have to kill them eventually, you know,” he smiled up at Papyrus. “And just think about it. You'd be hailed as a _hero_! The Great Papyrus,” Flowey waved a vine through the air. “Savior of monsterkind and champion of freedom.”

“That sounds less like heroism and more like murder.”

“I could help you, you know,” Flowey offered slowly. “Tell you what, I'll hold them down while you deal the damage.”

“Wh-_ no!_ I _told_ you, no!” he shook his head fiercely. “I'm _not_ going to _kill_ them!”

“What about someone else then?”

Papyrus could only balk at him in stunned disbelief, unable to fully process what he had just said.

“Sorry, _what,_” he blinked.

“Don't you know how the human gathers strength in there?” he jabbed a vine back at the Ruins. “Why, LOVE, of course! Every single kill they get makes them a little stronger. So, why not use their own tactics against them? Why not level the playing field, get a leg up and put yourself on even footing?”  
“You... you mean...”

“Just some chumps that nobody would miss,” Flowey continued calmly as if he weren't discussing something so abhorrent that his mind could barely fathom such an unspeakable act. “We could pump you up with some EXP, and before you know it you'd be strong enough to kill the human with one arm behind your back! Hee hee.”

“I... I think I might actually be sick,” Papyrus admitted. “Oh my god, Flowey, that is the most _disgusting_ thing I've ever heard you say, what the _hell_.”

“You want to stop the human, don't you Papyrus?” he never dropped that smile, not even once. “Well, they're just getting tougher by the minute in there. And you're out here, doing, what?” he gestured around with a vine. “Sitting around on the phone pretending that a killer isn't coming right in your direction? Get it _together_,” for just a brief moment, Papyrus caught a glimpse of something _seething_ in him, something dark, something not quite right; but it was gone the next, and he was left wondering if he had really seen it at all. “I don't give you my good advice for _giggles_, Papyrus. Don't you get that I only want to see you _succeed_? I'm the _only_ one that does, you know that.”

“That-that's not true,” he shifted uneasily, but the quick vine whipping around his ankle kept him pinned.

“Isn't it, though?” Flowey tilted from side to side again. “Alphys? She's only helping because she's afraid of being useless. She barely even leaves her own house. Undyne?”

“She-”

“Will _never_ let you into the royal guard,” Flowey continued. “She thinks you're too _soft_, Papyrus. She thinks you're _weak._”

That awful tightness made itself quite comfortable within his chest once again, and apparently it brought friends.

“My-my brother-” he tried to defend himself, but Flowey just laughed again.

“Is a lazy good for nothing layabout that doesn't _care_ whether or not you succeed,” Flowey's smirk grew. “Tell me. If he _really_ cared so much about you, wouldn't he be out here, helping you, no matter what?”

Papyrus couldn't really bring himself to speak his mind. He wasn't sure that he wanted to talk anymore anyway. He could feel himself curling inward, he just wanted to hold his hands over his head and make the aching pain stop for a little while.

“Face it, buddy,” Flowey tilted his chin up with a vine, forcing his tear streaked gaze to meet his own. “I am the _only_ one down here that really cares about you, Papyrus. Everyone else?” he gestured around with his vine again. “Everyone in this world? They're not _like_ you, Papyrus. Because you're not just different, you're _better_ than them.”

“But I-”

“Just think over what we talked about today, will you not?” Flowey started to retreat back into the ground. “Give it some thought. Right now... I believe you have a _guest_.”

And sure enough, meandering down the path and toward the bridge, came the human once again.

He wasn't altogether surprised to see them carrying the knife. And from the way that they carried themselves, dusty knife gripped in one hand and the other swinging calmly at their side as they strode toward him, somehow he got the feeling that they weren't going to be in much of a talking mood today. Something in the back of his mind kept pulling at his attention, though. Something that he really didn't want to think about at all. Something stirred in him when he thought of the innocent souls previously living in the Ruins, lives that the human had taken. Lives that were at stake if he didn't do more than just resist. Determination swelled in his soul as he stood fully, fists clenched as his scarf blew back in the breeze, his gaze sharpened onto the rapidly approaching human. The craziest thing was, not that he was willing to die all over again and again – rather, that some of Flowey's words were actually sinking in now that he could see the dust on their hands. Maybe he was crazy. Maybe it was suicidal. Maybe Flowey had a point.

Maybe it was high time that he started fighting back.

0-0-0-0-0


	25. Toil And Trouble

0-0-0-0-0

The biting cold didn't really bother the skeleton much. However, that hungry, predatory gaze the human was staring him down with as they approached admittedly made the slightest of shivers crawl up his spine.

“... Human,” Papyrus stated aloud as they drew closer, not even pausing a moment as they drifted like a ghost over the bridge toward him. They stopped directly in front of him and stared up at him, knife clenched in one hand, face devoid of emotion. “We need to have a little talk.”

“I'm sick of talking,” Frisk said quietly, so lowly that he almost missed it. “There's no point to it.”

“You hurt people while you were in the Ruins?” he asked, already knowing the answer. The dust on their hands said it all.

“No,” they muttered after a moment.

“Frisk,” he crossed his arms over his chest, his head aching again. “I'm going to ask you again. And this time I want you to be a little more honest. Did you hurt anyone?”

“... Doesn't matter,” they looked away from him, hand with the knife twitching slightly. “Doesn't matter. Nothing matters.”

Papyrus sighed and knelt down before them on one knee, elbow resting on his leg as he tried to meet their gaze.

“_This_ is why we need to have these talks,” he explained slowly. “Because when we don't, people tend to get hurt.”

“Why do you _care_?” Frisk finally looked him in the eye sockets, a slight frown forming on their face. “You didn't even _know_ those monsters.”

“What about Toriel?”

Frisk fell silent again, and Papyrus rubbed his temple with his free hand.

“... I don't know why you insist on doing this,” Papyrus admitted. “You don't _have_ to hurt anyone, you know.”

“You haven't seen what I have,” Frisk shot back defensively. “Some people deserve it. Some people _need_ to die.”

“Do you _really_ believe that?” he tilted his head downward a bit, giving them a skeptical look. Frisk bit their lip and their frown deepened. “You've killed me before. And it hurt, quite a lot. So, did I do something to deserve to die, Frisk?”

“... You were in my way,” Frisk's eyes hardened in an instant.

“In your way. I see,” he said after a moment. “And how many others have been 'in your way', Frisk?”

“Plenty.”

“You aren't acting like yourself at all,” Papyrus stared them down. “You sound _strange_. But you clearly don't believe what you're telling me you do.”

“And why do you think that?”

“Because you haven't killed me yet,” he gestured to himself. “You've had plenty of opportunity to cut me down already. But you haven't. So why don't you tell me the real reason you're acting out like this, little one?”

Frisk opened their mouth and started to speak before closing it, repeating the process a couple more times before shivering and looking away from him. A light flush crept into their cheeks, and they trembled again as if struggling with something heavy that only they could see.

“... Before you decide that I'm... _in your way_,” Papyrus pulled the thermos from the sentry station, and gently pressed it into their hands. “I brought you a little something.”

Frisk didn't say anything, but they did open the top curiously and take a small experimental sip. Their crimson eyes widened a bit and they just stared at him, and stared and stared.

“You know...” Frisk said after a stretch of silence. “If you're trying to bribe me, it's not going to work.”

“I can still hope,” he shrugged with a small, patient smile. “Can we just try to get through one day without hurting anyone?”

“Oh, _fuck off,_” they scowled deeply at him. “You try being in my shoes, just _try _being attacked every few minutes. Don't you fucking _patronize _me, you bony _prick_-”

“Okay okay!” he held up his hands passively. “Wow, _language,_ good lord. I get where you're coming from, but all I ask is that we at least _try _to keep the damage to a minimum.”

“So you haven't started seeing it yet,” Frisk tilted their head, and he could only blink and look at them quizzically.  
“... Seeing what?”

“You'll figure it out,” they muttered darkly. “Now either shut up or put up. You're _in my way._”

Papyrus slowly stood, hands falling limply to his sides.

“... I don't want to fight you,” Papyrus claimed softly, the breeze blowing his scarf back. “Please, human. Frisk. I'm taking a leap of faith because I _believe _in you. I'm showing you mercy here. If we're really friends, if you have any goodness in you at all. Don't do this.”

They hesitated for all but a bare moment.

And the knife came down.

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus was not too happy to hear the sound of the alarm clock going off.

He hurtled himself out of bed, hastily and furiously scratched off the date, and began to dress as quickly as he could. He haphazardly threw on his boots and slapped on his gloves, his eye sockets stinging. It was difficult to breathe for some reason, it felt like something sharp had lodged itself in his throat. He was so, so _tired_. But at least he _tried_. He tried, even when nobody else would. He hoped, even when nobody else would. He cared, even when nobody else would.

And how did they show appreciation?

By cutting him from one end to the other and walking right on by. Papyrus thought that that hurt a bit more than the actual death. They spared him hardly even a second of thought. Maybe he was being too lax with them. Maybe he wasn't trying hard enough.

_Maybe Flowey was right._

He shook his head and struggled to keep himself in check, wiping his eye sockets with the back of his gloves. It just felt so _unfair_ . But it was technically his fault, this time, wasn't it? Flowey had even warned him, and quite blatantly, about what the human was going to do to him. And sure enough, his prediction was right on point once again. But no, Papyrus was stubborn. He had to have it _his_ way, he had to keep giving them chance after chance and hoping and praying that they would latch onto his good examples and learn from their mistakes. And instead, they abused his trust. He gave them something to hope for and greeted them with open arms, and he was met with a knife in the chest. He didn't bother looking himself in the mirror this time around. He didn't think he could stomach the sight of himself right then anyway.

He left almost without saying anything to Sans. He felt so _selfish_ for doing so, too. Papyrus wrote a hastily scribbled note and slid it under his door, quietly taking off and slipping out the front door.

He stared off in the direction of the forest, his weary soul crying out, and he eventually hung his head and sighed. It didn't take him long to make up his mind.

Within the next minute, he was already on his way to Waterfall.

0-0-0-0-0

It was a long, quiet walk through Waterfall, and Papyrus was just fine with that.

He felt the air gradually begin to warm, icicles and snow giving way to cold water and droplets falling from the roof of the cavern. He thought for a moment about calling someone. Nobody was up at this time of the morning, and he still had roughly an hour before the human showed up. So instead of calling Doctor Alphys or Undyne or Sans, he just kept up his slow but steady march through Waterfall, dirt and mud crunching underfoot as he walked ever onward. If he didn't stop the human, what was going to happen to everyone else? That thought haunted him every single step of the way, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. The idea of just how many times he had failed them all dug its way deep into his mind and refused to leave, burrowing in like a parasite. It left him troubled and worried that his toils were all for nothing, that even if he did manage to somehow stop the human that he would just wake up in the morning and nothing would be different, so what was the point to anything at all?

He didn't have much of a direction at that time, and he didn't mind that either. Sometimes he just needed to get out and stretch. It was nice to spend some time just quietly listening to the echo flowers whispering to each other in the water and wetlands. He meandered toward and through the dump, letting his mind wander. He had so many questions, now maybe more than ever. So many fears. So many doubts. It filled up his head until he felt like he was about to burst, the determined thrumming in his soul refusing to give out. He sighed as he stopped at yet another little yellow glimmer, hiding in the water near a small waterfall of garbage. He stood on the edge of the cliff and stared down into the dark, it looked as if it just went on forever. And for a brief moment, Papyrus wondered if he were to fall here if he would just keep falling, forever and ever into that endless abyss. He wondered if there was any point to all of this. He could hardly think of any reason to keep doing this over and over.

Papyrus's fists clenched tightly and he closed his eye sockets, taking a deep breath. All it would take is a little tilt in the right direction. It would be so easy, too. Simple. Maybe even painless. But who would be there to take care of Snowdin? Who would be there to greet the human? What would happen to all those he didn't show up to protect, to defend and guide? Could he even be forgiven for something so cowardly? Did it even matter if he was just going to wake up in bed tomorrow morning starting today all over again? Would anyone even notice if he were to just... slip? Would he even hit the bottom? What would it feel like, if he didn't just fall forever and ever?

_What would happen to your brother?_

He finally stepped away from the ledge, his thoughts heavy and weary as ever.

“_Good choice.”_

Papyrus jolted hard at the sound of someone's voice, and he whirled on the spot, soul pounding in his chest. He hadn't even _heard_ anyone, nor seen anyone, and yet this person had somehow crept up on him. A short stocky gray skinned monster with a jutting rib cage, wide, unblinking eyes.

“Nyer-hem,” Papyrus cleared his throat uneasily, the staring monster almost looking right through him. “I... didn't see anyone else here.”

“He's waiting for you,” they stated simply, lips barely moving at all.

“Who?” Papyrus blinked. He turned his head and glanced back down in the darkness. “Is there someone else... here...?”

Papyrus trailed off as he turned his gaze back to the monster; or at least, where he used to be. He looked around in confusion, his worries only growing in size. There was nobody else there. Nobody showed up. Maybe he had been entirely alone the whole time.

“... Going crazy,” he ran a hand over his head, stepping back a bit further from the edge, suddenly very afraid of looking into that dark place any longer than he had to. “I'm actually going _crazy_.”

But of course, nobody answered.

Papyrus all of a sudden didn't really want to be alone anymore. He shivered and wrapped his scarf a bit tighter around his neck, backtracking through the dump toward Snowdin. He could figure it all out later. Right now, he needed to get back to his sentry station before he ran out of time. He kept expecting to see that little weird gray monster again, but he only met a couple of Waterfall's residents instead, and none of them had seen anyone like he described when he asked. So he tucked it away in his mind, yet one more mystery to solve.

Somehow, it felt like it took even longer to get back to Snowdin than it did to leave, which he found odd. He wound up taking the ferry there, the river person strangely silent when he politely asked for a ride. But that was fine. Papyrus wasn't very much in a talking mood. So he sat in silence on the damp wooden bench, watching the water rush by as the boat surely and steadily plowed onward. He thanked the river person quietly for the ride and kept a slow walk through Snowdin. The town was just starting to wake up, people coming outside and monster children running through the snow. It all felt so calm, so _normal_. And yet, he still couldn't shake off the sensation that it was all very, very wrong.

Everyone else got to live their lives. They all got to just be _people_. And he couldn't even make it through a single day. It felt cruel.

“Morning, Barry,” Papyrus said tiredly to the bear monster hanging around outside the library, steaming paper coffee cup in one hand and newspaper in the other. The monster grunted in response and glanced up at him before turning his attention back to the newspaper. Then he blinked hard and looked back at Papyrus, as if just seeing him for the first time.

“Oh. Uh. Hey... _you,_” he shifted, clearly having not remembered Papyrus's name, and the frustration and agitation just all started boiling up again. “How's it going?”

“Catching a human today,” he replied simply, and Barry just rolled his eyes and snorted.

“Yeah, right. Leave it up to the royal guard,” he grunted and shifted his gaze back to the crossword. “You know, someone _competent_.”

Papyrus responded by promptly slapping the coffee out of his hand as he tried to drink it, knocking it all over the monster who sputtered and gawked at him, outraged.

“What the hell?”

“Shut _up_, Barry,” Papyrus snapped at him, earning a shocked look from the monster. “I'll show _you _who's competent! And _no_, forget your stupid crossword!”

Barry's indignant shouting went ignored by the skeleton, who stomped onward, his hands clenched into fists as he marched. He felt downright ashamed of himself, but it was nothing compared to the frothing _anger_ he felt toward the sarcastic monster behind him. He tried his hardest to brush it off as he walked, but no matter what he did that unnatural, boiling fury stayed with him, tearing and clawing from inside his chest and roaring for release. It felt like it just erupted out of nowhere, that itching, burning _fury _raw and powerful in his chest. And it did not fade as he expected, either. It stayed with him, leaving him almost smoking from the head as he plowed through traps and puzzles easily ignored and stamped his way to his destination.

He shoved the snow off the sentry station counter with his forearm and threw himself into the seat, one boot bouncing up and down in agitation as he simply fumed. The nerve, the _gall_ of some people. Didn't any of them even notice how much he did for them? Did any of them even _care_ how hard he worked to do good in this world? And would any one of them even realize that danger was on the way when he was inevitably cut down again?

He glowered at an old lamp sitting behind Sans's sentry station, tucked away as if awaiting some sort of joke that he wasn't in on. He tipped it over and watched it fall flat into the snow, glowering at the unplugged useless thing as if it bore the majority of his frustrations and mocked him silently from behind the shade. And out of everything that had happened that morning, everyone that he had talked to, every single moment leading up until now, that of all things seemed just a little bit funny.

He didn't really know why. Maybe he was starting to crack. It certainly felt like it. His mind recoiled against the idea, but he couldn't fathom the thought of actually losing a mental battle to his own demons. He _needed_ to stay in control, needed to keep it together. And instead he was seeing people that weren't there, contemplating terrible things and shouting nonsense at his neighbors.

_What a hero._

Papyrus held his head in his hands and groaned, closing his eye sockets and pressing his palms against his skull harder. He just wanted all of the voices in his head to _stop_ for a little while with all of the thoughts and opinions, or at the very least quiet down a little bit so that he could _think_ clearly. Had he always been like this? Was his mind always this muddled, had it always been so hard to focus? All he could think of was that look on the human's face as they cut him down. That cold, emotionless smile that might as well have been painted on. The empty look in their eyes as they sliced right through him. The blank, hollow, vacant stare like they didn't even see what they were doing; the lights were on upstairs but nobody was home. The feeling of betrayal as they walked right on by as he bled out dust, the darkness overwhelming him. And finally, awakening to that bitter, raging _anger_ that felt so alien and unnatural to him.

The human didn't show up on time today. Once again, it seemed like they were taking their time. Papyrus was just peachy with that, too.

It gave that awful feeling in his chest more time to _boil_.

0-0-0-0-0

He saw them coming this time.

They approached with a steady stride through the snow, thin striped frame a stark contrast against the alabaster canvas of ice and pine. They didn't even slow as they crossed the bridge, knife held tightly in one hand, eyes downcast as they walked, only barely registering that he was standing before them with his arms crossed over his chest awaiting them.

“... We need to talk.”

“_This_ again,” Frisk scowled deeply, thin brows furrowing into a sharp point. “Don't you have anything better to do?”

“We _need_ to talk,” Papyrus restated, trying his hardest to contain his frustrations. They responded by taking an instant _lunge_ at him with the knife, but he wasn't going to just stand there and take it. Not anymore. He sidestepped quickly and they seemed surprised, eyes widening. “I'm not just going to let you use me as a punching bag, human Frisk,” he did his best to remain calm. “We need to _talk._”

Frisk instead took an overhead swipe at him with the knife and he only easily managed to sidestep it again, but was caught off guard when they swung again mid stride horizontally and took a clean slice out of his battle body just below his rib cage.

“I am _warning_ you!” Papyrus threatened them loudly, throwing out an arm, magic crackling at his fingertips. “Either stand down and drop the weapon, or there will be _consequences!_”

That blank, empty smile stayed on their face as they twitched forward, head bobbing back and forth almost like they were being pulled along a string. The next stab was harder to avoid, he had to backstep twice and again just to avoid being skewered. That horrible sensation roaring in his chest refused to go away, only rearing its ugly head the longer they decided to fight. He summoned a long bone club in one hand, magic pulling and straining against him and snarling with power.

“Fine!” he spat in disgust. “You want to fight that badly? _Fine_, you'll _get_ a fight!”

Papyrus threw out a small quiver of bones rippling over the snow. The smile on Frisk's face shifted and faded for a moment, as if uncertainty gripped them, and they just stared as the bones drifted harmlessly right by them and vanished into a snowbank.

“... Are you serious?” they balked at him after a moment, all emotion drained from their features. “You can't be serious.”

“I _will_ fight you if I have to!” he shook his finger at them dangerously. “There's plenty more where that came from!”

“And that was supposed to be, what?” Frisk scoffed as they turned and threw an arm out back behind them in disbelief. “Your opening attack-?”

“A _distraction_,” he answered, suddenly much closer than he was before, and promptly knocked them out by clubbing them over the head.

0-0-0-0-0


	26. Gonna Need A Grave

0-0-0-0-0

Out of all of the things that Papyrus had been expecting today, this most certainly had not been at the top of his list.

The human lay face down and unconscious in the snow before him, bleeding profusely from the back of their head. Blood trickled and pooled over their neck and filtered into the icy powder like a terrible watercolor painting, the image forever burned into his memory. Papyrus felt like being _sick_, the pounding and panicked rushing in his soul slamming so loud that it was all he could hear. That is, aside from the frantic _screaming_ going on inside his own head. Had he hurt them too badly? Were they even going to get up again? What if he had fouled things up so badly that he was going to have to dig a grave for them? What in the world had possessed him to think that was a good idea?

“... I may have made a slight oopsie,” he murmured simply, more to himself than anything, the shock of the situation still not fully fading. Good lord, what kind of an awful person was he turning into? But it might not still be too late – Frisk said that they reset when they died, and he had been very careful not to swing _too _hard with that bone club of his, but clearly it had still hit harder than he anticipated. He only wanted to incapacitate them, not bludgeon them to near death. He was swift to dissipate his weapon with a flash, dropping to his knees and struggling to keep his breathing steady, he was so overwhelmed, so _horrified_ at what he had done, but he _needed_ to stop them. There was no way that he was just going to stand around and take it anymore, he was _done_. But did that really mean he had to go to the point of drawing blood? Didn't humans usually need their heads protected most of all? The guilt, the fear, the overwhelming dread settling in was just growing and growing and he had no idea as to how he was supposed to combat such an intense combination of unpleasantness.

Papyrus was on the verge of panicked tears that he bit back furiously and shook his head, kneeling over them and casting out a hand and sending a small, wavering green bone to knit through their injury. He watched as skin and tissue folded and molded magically back together, the bleeding stopping almost instantly, but there was still a clearly noticeable lump when he gently touched the back of their head. But they still didn't budge, didn't move an inch as they lay face down in the snow, he wasn't even sure that they were breathing. There was blood on his gloves that he wiped off in the snow, leaving a hand print that reflected all of his sins, almost burning into his eye sockets.

“I'm sorry. Oh god, oh god I'm so sorry,” he blurted as he picked up the human in his arms, holding them close to his chest. He couldn't look down without seeing all of the awful _blood _coating the ground, a testament to just how badly he had botched things up. He just wanted to be friends, he had only wanted to _talk_, why did they always have to make things so _difficult?_ He was getting unreasonably angry again and he knew it, but worst of all he wasn't sure _where_ to direct that anger. At the human, at himself, at the world. It all felt like such a confused jumble and all he could do was try to keep himself together and attempt to patch up the disaster he'd created. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled over and over again, trying not to cry; despite his frustration, despite his _anger,_ he just couldn't quite help but worry about them regardless. “Oh god, oh god oh _lord_ I really screwed the doggo on this one-”

He pulled off his tattered scarf and wrapped the human as best he could from head to foot, their little shoes sticking out limply from the bottom. He kept the bundle of human close to his chest and nervously checked back and forth, seeing no one, starting off at a brisk and heavy stride with the odd wrapped up package held gingerly in his arms and close to his chest. He bolted as fast as he could, pumping his legs and running swiftly back clearing snow banks in a singe bound, running fearfully past traps and puzzles that he had set that were now utterly useless given the current situation. He knew that he shouldn't have taken advantage of their beguilement like that, it felt so _scummy_, but he _needed_ to stop them, didn't he? Papyrus couldn't help but keep throwing nerve wracking glances over his shoulder the entire time, _certain_ that he was being watched but unable to decipher by what or whom, as nobody was behind him. He practically sprinted past Doggo's sentry station, the monster jolting up at the motion with his hand on his sheathed dagger.

“Wait – Papyrus?” he blinked, and the skeleton barely even slowed his running.

“Nothing strange to see here absolutely nothing out of the ordinary, as you were!” he shouted back and kept running even faster, legs stamping boot prints deep into the snow. He was sweating from both shot nerves and exhaustion by the time he finally made it back to Snowdin, and that was only by taking a few sneaky shortcuts through the woods around other monsters and almost flew over the long wooden bridge where he'd set up his ultimate trap. Yet one more thing that had proved to be useless. But maybe Undyne would like it, he'd have to keep it in mind the next time she visited Snowdin, she might even be impresed with all of his hard work. And that thought only brought many more, none of which were welcome.

Oh lord above, what was he supposed to tell Undyne about the human? _Should_ he even tell her about them? He recalled quite vividly being told by Frisk just how frequently they had been skewered by the woman, his mentor, his _friend_, and the idea of Undyne outright attacking a child with intent to kill sent shivers up his spine. But then again, could he really judge when he had just swung a bone club at their unsuspecting head like a baseball bat? He pulled the wrapped up bundle of human faster and skirted around some of the buildings close to Snowdin, his breathing heavy and he tried to wipe the sweat from his bone brow without dropping them. His house was only a short distance away and a quick stumbling through the underbrush behind the unkempt side of the librarby over to his house was such a relief that he wanted to start crying all over again; but he had to keep it together, had to stay determined, had to stay _focused._ He fumbled for his keys with one hand and nearly dropped the unmoving human in the process, throwing open the door and kicking it closed behind him. He sank against the door and let out a shaky, half laugh half sob of relief at the sight of the makeshift 'guest room'. Papyrus continued with his impromptu plan and unraveled the human with his scarf, who barely stirred and merely let out a meager befuddled moan. Dang it all, why didn't he have the foresight to prepare for actually keeping a human trapped? There was no way that they were going to stay behind those bars, and even though their knife was still in the snow all the way back in Snowdin forest that didn't mean that they weren't still dangerous, he needed something, something...

Papyrus quickly used his scarf to wrap and tightly tie their arms behind their back as best he could, using multiple knots for good measure, locking them behind the wooden bars to the useless human trap he'd spent so much time developing. They would have a little bed in there, awfully small (that obnoxious dog he'd found sleeping there had been told off for breaking in and hadn't showed up there since, so that was a small blessing at least) and he almost dropped them into it. He rapidly shut the door to the cage and locked the door, trembling hands almost losing the keys as he fumbled to find the right one, eventually getting it right and locking it tight.

At least they weren't in mortal danger anymore, he did a quick CHECK of their health and it didn't reveal anything he didn't already know. It still felt a little icky and rude doing that without their permission, but it was really for their own good. He bit his tongue and quickly slipped out of the garage door, locking it behind him and leaning against the wooden door and closed his eye sockets. He let out a long, unsteady, shaky breath of too many emotions to deal with right now. Terror that he might have seriously hurt someone in his sneak attack, especially someone that he considered a friend. Dread that someone was going to find out what he had been carrying all the way back to Snowdin, knowing full well that even the slightest blip on the radar could cause Undyne to make a special trip to his home to find out what he'd discovered and that would _not_ end well, he just knew it. Relief that he had even made it this far, so much so that he wanted to sob but he refused to even let the sound escape his teeth, he had to stay _focused_. Worry that he was going completely mad, he shouldn't have acted on impulse and anger and _this_ was the result, Frisk was hurt and unconscious and it was all his fault...

“What'cha doin' bro?”

Papyrus immediately _screamed_ and then tried to pass it off as a severe coughing fit, blush creeping into his bony cheeks as he tried to pretend that he hadn't jumped nearly a foot in the air.

“... Nothing,” he lied, feeling like trash for it.

“Nothin', huh?” Sans stood before him with his hands in his jacket pockets, giving him _that_ look again. “Me too. Ya look a little outta sorts, bro. You feelin' alright?”

“Yep yes absolutely fine and dandy!” Papyrus stood up taller and fumbled to readjust his scarf before realizing that it was currently in use. Even Sans seemed to notice the lack of his daily attire, staring at his exposed neck for a moment before turning that almost _knowing_ grin back to his brother.

“You _sure_ everything is fine, Paps?”

“YES!” Papyrus blurted before clearing his throat, feeling far too sweaty. “I mean, nyer-hem, _yes_, everything is _fine,_” he reiterated. “To-totally fine, brother! Absolutely _nothing_ to worry about, nothing out of the ordinary, perfectly normal day in which I most _certainly_ have not made any spectacularly bad decisions which probably won't come back to bite me at all!”

Sans just stood there and stared.

He stared and stared and stared.

Then he smiled a little wider, that odd, _knowing_ little grin of his, pulled out a ketchup bottle from inside his jacket and took a long swig before returning it to the confines of his coat.

“Whelp, good enough for me,” he shrugged. “Just glad ta see you're stayin' outta trouble is all, y'know, bro?”

“Trouble?” Papyrus felt like he was swallowing rocks. “Oh ho, no! No, no, yes – I mean, _yes_ you are correct, no troubles here at all! None, certainly not a one!”

A loud _thunk_ sounded from within the garage. Sweat began to bead coldly on Papyrus's forehead and he forced a weak and shaky grin that he desperately hoped came off as confident.

“Doin' somethin' in the garage?” Sans asked immediately.

“... Renovating?” he tried hopefully, tapping his gloved fingers together.

“Renovating,” Sans repeated, staring him down.

Another _thunk_.

_Oh ding dang diddly dammit all._

“Must have some precarious equipment fallin' around in there,” Sans offered, and he jumped on the opportunity immediately.

“YES – I mean, yes, yep, that is _totally_ what that is,” he laughed nervously. “Very heavy duty equipment, very dangerous, it would be a very very bad idea to go tampering with it right now brother-”

The next  _thunk_ came hard at the back of the door, rattling Papyrus away before he promptly slammed his whole body back against the door, hands clinging to the door frame, eye sockets wide.

“Uh, bro-”

“And-and-” he thought quickly. “A wild animal!”

“You're doing renovations in the garage?” Sans cocked a bony brow at him with that _look_ again, bemused grin growing just a bit more. “With a wild animal in there?”

“Well, you know how those bars I installed are a bit too wide,” he was rambling and he knew it, why was Sans _doing this right now_ – THUNK – and he had to shove his back against the straining door and plant his feet into the ground. “But I _totally_ have the situation under control! Absolutely nothing to panic about, no sirree!”

“Ya sure?” Sans just kept giving him that lazy smile, hands in his pockets. “Because ya do seem kinda panicked.”

“P-Panic?” he dittoed, desperate to buy himself time. “Oh no, not panicked, not panicking, not panicking at all! Everything is just _dandy_ brother, nyeh heheheh HEHEHEHAHA!”

Papyrus was trembling with the force of keeping the door closed despite the violent rattling and banging going on behind him, the slamming against the door repeated and loud.

“See,” Sans shifted from foot to foot, that knowledgeable grin of his almost plastered on. “If I were anybody else, I might be a _little_ suspicious-”

“SUSPICIOUS?” Papyrus leaned back hard against the door, holding the constant banging back with all his might. “What? Me? No, absolutely not, n-never! I'm not suspicious, _you're _suspicious!”

“What-?”  
“Vanishing all the time with your mysterious explanations,” he tried to narrow his brow bones into a serious look but the overwhelming _fear_ of being discovered must have been practically painted all over his face. “Where are you even going when you do that? What have _you_ been up to, brother?”

“Slackin' off,” Sans said without missing a beat, but oddly enough, Papyrus noted that this of all times Sans did not meet his gaze for the longest time. A little bead of sweat started to form on the skeleton's forehead. “Anyway, takes a lotta work to laze 'round much as me, y'know? I'm gonna head ta Grillby's. You want anything?”

“Blech. I think I'll pass,” Papyrus deadpanned instantly. “Everything there is too greasy, it'll go straight to my hips.”

“But you're made of bones,” Sans pointed out.  
“I am also made of _standards_,” Papyrus crossed his arms over his chest. He started to speak again before a particularly loud _bang! _resounded from behind him, fiercely shaking the door and leaving him jittering all over again. He had gotten so distracted that he almost forgot what he was doing for a second. “Go ahead without me, I need to, erm... _sort out_ some things here.”

“If you say so, bro,” Sans shrugged, finally turning that look away from him and spinning on his heels. But somehow, despite the fact he was _sure_ he had been very careful not to be followed or spotted, Papyrus couldn't quite shake the feeling that somehow Sans just... _knew_.

“See ya later, bro,” Sans gave him a lazy wave without looking back, dragging his slippers through the snow.

“Don't stay all day!” he called after him, and he heard a quiet chuckle despite the breeze before Sans meandered down the path all the way to Grillby's. Papyrus didn't budge an inch from the door until he was certain that he was no longer being observed, and then carefully unlocked the garage door and entered, slamming the door and swiftly locking it behind him. He was apparently not fast enough, as the moment he whirled on the spot at the sound of pattering feet against the floorboards he was hit dead on in the chest, headbutt knocking him back into the door. He grabbed the human missile by the back of the shirt and hoisted them up into the air with one hand, rubbing his painfully stinging ribs with his other.

“That _hurt_,” he stated simply. They were still stuck with their arms tightly tied behind their back with his scarf, and he silently thanked every god that he had paid so much attention to old survivor's guides that had been thrown away in the dump. Those humans sure could come up with some crazy knots. Speaking of, the one he held in the air was currently _thrashing_ violently and kicking at nothing, struggling and straining against their bonds as they tried to swing forward to headbutt him again.

“Untie me right _now_ you bony _fuck!_” Frisk snarled, crimson eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. They were almost foaming at the mouth as they fought and even tried to bite him a couple of times, and he held them at arm's length to prevent it. But that didn't stop them from gnashing and writhing like a wild snake infuriated at being stepped on. Good grief, this child had no chill whatsoever.

“Will you calm _down_ for a moment?” Papyrus asked hopefully, holding them out a bit further when their response was to spit at his feet. Their face was screwed up in a menagerie of rage and fury and _hatred_, it was upsetting to say the least. “Good _lord_ Frisk, what has gotten _into _you?”

“You cheating _asshole!_” Frisk shrieked and kicked uselessly in the air. “What's gotten into _me?!_ You fucking _kidnapped_ me, you goddamned psychopath!”

“_I'm_ the psychopath?” he balked in mild offense. “You _literally_ tried to cut me in half!”

“I'll do more than that if you don't untie me _right fucking now!_” Frisk flailed violently and despite their wild motion Papyrus had more than enough practice lifting weights, holding them at arm's length wasn't doing much more than getting a little tiring, but then again quite a few other things were getting tiring as well. He frowned and gave them a firm shake, bouncing them up and down to try to get their attention. “I'll piss in your dust and stab your goddamn parents you _piece of shit-!”_

“Can you at least stop trying to chew at me like a rabid animal?” Papyrus asked in exasperation.

“Put me _down_ you _insolent FUCK-!”_

Papyrus responded by giving them a hard _flick_ on the nose, which actually managed to stun them into silence for a moment, before they then resumed thrashing against his grasp even harder, nearly being dropped in the process.

“You are going to stop this nonsense right_ now,_ Frisk,” he gave them a stern glower. “I don't know what in the _heck_ has gotten you so riled up lately-”

“Oh hey golly gee lemme think about it,” Frisk put on a pensive face and stilled for a few moments. “Maybe it has something to do with, oh, I don't know, being _bludgeoned_ _unconscious_ and locked up in your _fucking basement,_ you _maniac!_”

“Well. First of all, it's a guest room that used to be a garage, technically,” he shifted awkwardly. “And secondly, I am being as _calm_ and _polite_ as I can, considering how the last time we talked you _literally murdered me,_” Papyrus's voice dropped at that last part, lower, almost gravelly. He could barely contain the _seething_ and all of the dark frustrations and pain of betrayal that he had felt all that morning came bubbling right back up no matter how hard he tried to keep it pushed down, every swell of his soul making it just a bit more difficult to force down the cork on a bottle ready to burst. It even managed to cause Frisk to stop flailing for a few seconds, their rage momentarily forgotten as just a flicker of uncertainty flashed across their face. And maybe it was being petty, maybe it was being vindictive, maybe it was even being _cruel_.

But sometimes, he just had to make a point.

“Haven't you noticed something?” Papyrus asked in a quiet, even tone, clearing his face of all emotion as they stared up at him. “You've been shouting and screaming like crazy. But nobody is barging down the door. Nobody can hear you,” he continued with his lie, wondering just how much of an impression it would make. “Nobody is coming to help you. And I want you to think about that while you're in here. I want you to think about _why that is, Frisk._”

They finally, _finally_ started to go a little limp, ceasing their nonstop kicking and writhing, eyes wide as they stared him down.

“... You're bluffing.”

“You don't sound very certain of yourself,” Papyrus noted aloud.

“I'll kill you,” they swore and spat again, hate dripping from their face. “I'll _kill_ you, the first chance I get.”

“And what makes you think I would bother _giving_ you a chance?” he held them up a bit higher so that they were at eye level. “What could _possibly_ make you think that, Frisk? Hm? After all of the chances I've _already_ given you? Out of the graciousness and goodness of my soul,” he held a hand to his chest and that ugly _roaring_ just _bellowed_ for release, and the craziest part was that he wasn't entirely certain that he even _wanted_ to keep it buried anymore. “I trusted you. I helped you. I fed you and brought you into my home and gave you chance after chance after _chance_. But you still don't seem to _GET IT!_”

Frisk grunted when Papyrus dropped them on the ground, shivering a little as they struggled to stand, but were swiftly shoved back down onto their knees.

“My _patience_,” Papyrus continued in that calm, quiet tone, standing over them with his arms hanging limply by his side, the rampant noise in his head drowned out by the angry thrumming in his soul overwhelming all of his common sense that begged him to turn back even though he was most certain that he crossed a line; scarily, a line that he didn't really know was even there until he passed it, and more upsetting, that he just didn't care that much any more. “Is running _thin_, Frisk. So, let me ask you a question. Have I ever, even _once, _in _any_ of these repeating days – have I ever killed _you?_”

Frisk did not answer. They would not meet his gaze. They only looked off to the side, stare downcast.

“Do you know how many times you've killed _me_, Frisk?” Papyrus slowly, carefully lowered himself to one knee, elbows crossed over his leg as he stared them down. “Do you know, Frisk?”

They still wouldn't answer for a long time. They wouldn't look at him at first.

“... You aren't going to do anything,” Frisk didn't even sound sure of it.

“Because I've been keeping count,” he continued and lied again, feeling as though he was deliberately staining his own soul. Of course, he didn't keep count of how many times they'd murdered him. But maybe keeping a tally wasn't such a bad idea after all. “Do you just _like_ doing this, Frisk?”

Still, Frisk would not look at him. Still, they would not answer. Still, they would not even blink. They just kept staring at a patch of floorboard off to the side, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed but twitching, their face steadily flooding with discomfort when Papyrus gradually tilted their chin up with his forefinger.

“Look at me when I'm talking to you.”

It wasn't a request, it was a command. Frisk shifted and tried to inch and squirm backwards on their knees, but Papyrus found firm purchase on their shoulder and squeezed hard, making them flinch.

“I'll be the first to admit,” Papyrus nodded a little, “Perhaps I'm not _entirely_ in my right mind right now. It's clear that you aren't feeling yourself right now, too. And, hey, I get it. I don't really feel exactly altogether in the head right now as it is,” he added with just a hint of aggression, and the look that Frisk gave him said it all. They shivered and fell on their backside out of his grip, eyes wide as they backed into a corner, biting their bottom lip, cheeks oddly cherry red despite just how pale their face had grown.

“I haven't been feeling myself lately, either,” Papyrus stood again and casually cracked his knuckles into his palm, one after the other. “Why, I'm downright _unpredictable_ right now. Who knows,” he leaned down right into their face even as they tried to push themselves into as tiny a ball as they could in the corner, like a frightened animal backing into the rear of a cage with no escape. A surge of guilt tried to worm into his thoughts, but he was still far too angry, too bitter to let it be heard. “Who knows. Who knows _what_ I could be capable of right now. Because I'll tell you one thing for certain. Little one. All of these '_resets'_,” he barked a humorless little laugh. “I dare say they're making me just a teensy bit _UNSTABLE!_”

Papyrus widened his eye sockets and let the lights drain away at his last shouted word, turning and _punching_ the wall next to their head so hard that it left a sizable crack. His fist was burning and his knuckles were aching terribly, but he kept up the charade as long as he could, slowly turning back to Frisk and smiling widely – too widely, a little thing he'd picked up from watching Flowey when he started making him uneasy. And it was clear that it had the same effect, Frisk looked ready to _drop_, eyes wide and watering, lips tensed white tight and shivering like a leaf in the wind.

He stood and let out a shaky breath through his nostril bone, closing his eye sockets and letting his eye lights return. When he finally opened his eye sockets again, Frisk was still curled up in the corner, legs pulled tightly to their chest for added protection, trembling but not taking a single glance away from him. He cleared his throat as he started to come back to his senses, the immense guilt climbing up his back more noticeable than ever.

“... You are going to stay here,” he informed them. “You are going to stay put and behave yourself. And when I get back, you and I are going to have a little _chat_. Capiche?”

Frisk did not answer. They did not move from their spot in the corner. However, after a long stretch of silence, they did manage a single, tight lipped nod of understanding.

“Oh, good,” he clapped his hands together cheerfully. “Then I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere, now!” he smiled as he turned and exited the garage, locking the door behind him. He just stood with his back to the door, waiting to hear scuffling and flailing against their impromptu bonds, but it seemed that something had finally, _finally_ started to sink in. They were no longer bouncing off the walls, not throwing themselves headfirst into the door, not shrieking and howling. It was silent.

Papyrus didn't even realize just how _badly_ his hands had been shaking, and he crossed his arms in attempt to still himself. It all sort of rushed in at once, all of his actions and cold words, and the frustration and bitterness and anger slowly started to ebb away, leaving him feeling only tired and guilty. He hated that he had resorted to intimidation tactics instead of peaceably coming to an agreement. He had behaved _horridly_ towards them, it just wasn't... _right_. It wasn't a good thing to do.

It wasn't _Papyrus._

He sighed and rubbed his temples wearily, resisting the urge to just sink down against the door and sit in the snow for a while. He felt downright _exhausted_, but he needed to make a point. If they refused to learn from his good examples, then it was clear that he was going to have to set a lot higher standard if he wanted the human to follow in his footsteps to the path of good.

_Knocking out and kidnapping a child then threatening them with violence. Right. What a hero._

Papyrus felt like being sick with himself. He ran his hands down his face and blew a breath through his teeth, forcing himself to stand. His legs felt like lead and his head was pounding, but he forged on regardless. He needed to pull himself together and get his head in the game. So he gave himself a firm shake, squared his shoulders and set off for the general store.

He didn't stop to talk to Bunni for long, and for some reason that made his soul ache. He would have given so much just to drop everything and stay for a while, just enjoy a bit of company with the nice woman, but today was just not going to be that day. At least he managed to make a good impression this time, remembering that she disliked loud noises, he was almost all business this time. So he settled for picking up a bag of cinnamon buns, tucked under one arm as he stepped back out into the crisp, cold morning air.

“_Pssst._”

Papyrus blinked at the hissing noise, and heard it again coming from his side. He glanced around carefully and spotted a little smiling yellow flower hiding out behind the welcome sign to Snowdin. Papyrus sighed again and lifted the bag under one arm, treading around the side of the store to meet up with the tiny monster.

“Howdy!” Flowey beamed up at him cheerfully, bouncing on his stem. “What'cha doing there, Papyrus?”

“Picking up some positive reinforcement,” he pointed to the paper bag.

“Golly,” his smile widened a bit. “Saw that scuffle you had with the human. And may I just say you handled it _spectacularly_, Papyrus!”

“I-oh, w-well, thank you,” he blinked, his cheeks heating a little.

“Unorthodox to be certain,” Flowey added thoughtfully. “I never would have taken you as the sort to use a sneak attack. You're just _full_ of surprises, aren't you buddy?”

“What can I say,” Papyrus said flatly. “I'm an enigma.”

“That you are,” he winked. “Gonna need a grave for that awful piece of work, am I right, or am I right?”

“Wh- I'm not _killing_ them,” Papyrus insisted.

“Really?” Flowey cocked a little eyebrow, his smirk growing. “Because they seemed awfully intent on killing _you_. Don't you know that showing mercy only gets you _hurt_?”

“... I,” Papyrus faltered. “I need time to think, Flowey. This morning has been a little... _wild_.”

“Oh, I'll bet,” he smiled so wide that his sharp canines glinted in the light. “Can I admit something to you, Papyrus?”

“Of course, little friend,” Papyrus nodded. “Always.”

“I kind of _like_ 'wild' you, you know?” Flowey tilted from side to side, that plastic grin of his still glued to his face. “I like it. I like it a _lot. _It's different. New. _Unpredictable._”

“That does seem to be today in a nutshell,” he ran a hand over his skull, blowing a breath out through his nostril bone. “I need to get back to it, Flowey.”

“Come find me when you have some time tonight,” Flowey instructed him, and Papyrus blinked once and nodded, though slightly confused. “Just _trust_ me. Let's call it a... _surprise. _What I'm going to show you will _blow_ your mind,” his smile overtook his entire face, eyes narrowed to slits. “I _guarantee_ it.”

And with that, he vanished into the ground, leaving Papyrus alone with nothing but his troubled thoughts and the cold snowy wind.

0-0-0-0-0


	27. A Little Messed Up

0-0-0-0-0

It didn't take long to return home.

He even stuck one of the cinnamon bunnies away for himself to save for later. He really wished that he could make more time to just stay and talk to the shopkeeper, even if it was about little nothings. He liked her.

Papyrus carefully made sure he wasn't being watched as he juggled the paper bag filled with supplies he would need under one arm, unlocking the garage and slipping inside, locking it firmly behind him before putting the key away in his torn up battle body.

A welcome sign was that he wasn't headbutted again as soon as he entered the garage. So that was a plus.

The fact that Frisk had somehow managed to wrangle their arms out in _front_ of themselves instead of behind must have taken some serious finagling and he was admittedly a little impressed that they could pull that off. But then there was the part where he was immediately assaulted with a dog dish flying at his head, which he only barely managed to dodge as it hit the wall and exploded food pellets.

“Back to this again, are we,” Papyrus deadpanned, already fed up with today. Frisk responded with a _hiss_ and tried to body slam into him, but he slipped to the side and deftly picked them up around the middle with one arm, leaving them flailing and cursing madly as they thrashed against his grasp. He nearly dropped them in the process and gave them a little shake, trying to get their attention.

“Will you just _calm down_ for a second?” he asked in exasperation, another headache starting to form. “We still have a _lot_ to talk about, and your little outbursts aren't going to make the process any less painful, you know that, right?”

“Your mother sucks cocks in _hell!_” Frisk spat vehemently and immediately _bit _him hard on the hand_,_ and he yelped and promptly dropped them. They grunted when they hit the floor, and he did feel a little bad, but frankly that had hurt quite a lot and he was just _through_ with today already.

“That _stings_!” he shook his now free hand trying to wipe off the saliva and noting a little sadly that they had bitten right through one of his favorite gloves. “How would you like it if I bit you, Frisk?”

“Try it and I'll knock your teeth out!” they swore, struggling to sit into a kneeling position. “I'll _kill_ you, I'll fucking _chew_ you to death if I have to!”

“Good _grief_,” he rubbed his temple with two fingers and sighed. “Okay, so, it looks like you don't want to do this the easy way.”

Papyrus snapped his fingers and a large bone club materialized in his grasp, hanging limply by his side. If he had to make a visual point, then so be it. He waved it slowly so they could see before gripping it tighter. Frisk promptly froze, their outrage undercut by the sudden uncertainty and discomfort.

“So. I consider myself a _reasonable_ person,” Papyrus stated quietly, but just loudly enough for them to hear. “I thought I made myself perfectly clear. _Frisk,_” he glowered at them the best he could. But hey, if intimidation worked before, in for a G, in for a pound. “Now I'm going to be so kind as to give you an _ultimatum_. We can either do this the easy way,” he held up the paper bag a little higher for demonstration before lowering it and gripping his bone club tightly. “Or we can do this the _hard_ way. Your choice.”

“... Is this the part where you fuck me?”

“What the _f-_ no! Oh my _god_ no!” Papyrus blurted in outright horror, all of his thoughts and careful planning coming to a screeching halt. “What the _heck_, Frisk!? That's-that's messed up!”

“You knocked me out,” they glowered up at him. “Tied me up, threatened me and locked me in a cage. It's kind of obvious,” Frisk pointed out as if it were clear as water.

“That's – oh my god, what the actual _hell_,” he had to take a moment to steady himself, feeling sick. He dissipated the bone club with a snap of his fingers. “_No_, Frisk, oh my _god_. I don't _want_ to hurt you if I don't have to. But if you keep _attacking_ me like this,” he narrowed a dangerous look at them. “Then I am just going to have to be _forced_ to use more extreme measures. Understand?”

Frisk stared as he set down the paper bag, pulling out supplies. Frisk stiffened at the sight of lengths of rope.

“... Oh my fuck,” Frisk stared at him with wide eyes. “Is this when I finally discover your freaky bdsm fetish?”

“I don't even know what that string of words mean, and I am _certain_ that I don't _want_ to know,” he pulled more rope out of the bag and walked toward them. Frisk shifted and shuffled back, but he just knelt down on one knee again. He presented the rope in his open hand, showing it to them.

“This?” he gestured to the tight coil. “Should keep you in place for a decent amount of time. Besides, I want my scarf back,” he admitted. “Consider it a time out punishment. I _specifically_ asked you not to hurt anybody, didn't I?”

“... Seriously. You really haven't started seeing it yet,” Frisk could only stare at him. “But not _you_. I don't see it on _you,_ why isn't it on you yet?”

“What are you talking about?” he pulled back, a little on edge.

“Changing faces,” Frisk mumbled, not looking at him anymore. They just rocked back and forth on their heels, eyes wide open as they stared at nothing. “Coming out. Going in. Everywhere. Hungry. Always hungry.”

“O... _kay?_” he shifted uneasily. “Look,” he said at long last. “I _really_ don't want to do this, Frisk, I honestly don't. But it's for your own good. You're a danger to everyone around you as long as you're behaving like this-”

“But I _need_ my weapons!” Frisk demanded. “Where did you take them, asshole? I _need_ those, gotta keep 'em away, gotta hurry-!”

“The only hurry I'm in is getting my _dang scarf back,_” he put his hand on their shoulder. “Now hold out your arms, this will only take a moment."

“You think I'm just going to _give up_?” Frisk scoffed in disbelief, backing into the corner again. “_Fuck you,_ if that's the case – _I'm_ not the unstable one here!”

“So what would you call all those murders?” Papyrus asked quietly, and to his immense surprise Frisk actually fell dead silent. Complete quiet reigned over the garage for the longest time, painful and tense and lingering.

“... I did what I had to do,” they muttered more to themselves than anything, not looking at him anymore. Papyrus only sighed again and reached out for them, and they flinched but didn't pull away.

“I... _look,_” he sighed. “I know you've made some... _mistakes_. I am trying my _hardest_ here to help you get back onto the straight and narrow, and the constant resistance isn't making things any easier.”

“Swear to god the first thing I do is stab the _shit_ out of you,” Frisk swore vehemently as he tied their wrists tightly, reclaiming his much missed scarf. It looked to have been bitten and chewed repeatedly and he sighed upon seeing all the new holes and tears that would need patching. “Swear to god, swear to _fucking god_ bone boy-”

“I will _untie_ you,” he wrapped his scarf back around his neck, immediately feeling much more whole than he did before. “IF you can prove that you can behave yourself for the rest of the day.”

“And what makes you think I'd bother?” Frisk scoffed. Their expression froze, however, when that bone club of his returned magically to his grasp. He held it straight up and then made a smashing motion down into his other hand a couple of times, clapping the bone against his open palm. Again. And again.

“Allow me to be perfectly clear,” he leaned down a little, narrowing his gaze. “You _are_ going to behave yourself. Or we are going to have ourselves a... _disagreement._ Understood?”

Frisk kept tight lipped and still, not moving an inch.

“You've lost it,” Frisk muttered at last. “You've lost your goddamn mind.”

“_I'm_ not the one on a murderous killing spree,” he pointed out, vanishing the bone with a flick of magic. He knelt down on one knee in front of them, and they just glowered hatefully at him. “So you are going to stay in _time out_ until you've learned the errors of your ways. And if you _don't_ behave,” he continued cheerfully. “Well, I'll just have to resort to knocking you out all over again. Don't think I won't,” he nodded, knowing full well that he would rather throw himself into the maw of one of those unspeakable inbetweeners than willingly bring harm again. But they didn't have to know that. It still left him feeling gross and scummy though. “I have _had it_, Frisk,” he glared them down. “I'm sick to _death_ of watching you do this to yourself, and I am _not_ going to let you hurt anyone.”

“You'll change your tune,” Frisk stated calmly as if they knew it for a fact.

“... Pardon?”

“As soon as you start seeing it too,” they nodded slowly, that weird, off kilter look back in their eyes. “I don't know why you haven't noticed it yet. But when you do?” Frisk chuckled quietly, an odd, small smile stretching across their face. “You'll be _begging_ for help. You still haven't hit the bottom yet.”

That of all things was supremely upsetting. He certainly _felt_ as though he had hit rock bottom. But maybe that wasn't what they were referring to in the first place, some of their previous conversations floating uncomfortably back to mind.

“You've got determination in you,” Frisk continued, almost looking through him. “I'll give you that. But not _nearly_ as much as me. You'll start seeing it sooner or later. And when you do? You won't be able to _handle_ it. Not without _me_. You _need_ me,” they seethed openly. “You're all talk. You aren't going to kill me.”

“You weren't listening to a _single_ word I said, were you?” he frowned. “Listen, Frisk. _Please_. I'm not _going_ to kill you, or hurt you, or anything of the sort. I just want you to – I don't know, take a step back for a second?”

Frisk just stared at him from the corner of the garage.

“I mean, not _literally_, just – _listen, alright?” _he was getting frustrated again and he knew it, but it all just kept _boiling _inside his chest, and he didn't know how to keep such an unfamiliar emotion buried down. “Clearly you aren't yourself lately, so if you really know so much, why don't you inform me?”

“Eat a dick,” Frisk responded promptly.

“You said you've been seeing things?” he felt the top of their head, worried about the lump that was probably still there from his sneak attack, and they squirmed and jerked away from him. “Did you hit your head or something? Come on, Frisk, I am _trying_ to be helpful here.”

“You know what would be _really_ helpful?” Frisk glowered at him. “If you _untied _me and gave me back my _fucking knife._”

“Yeah, that's not happening,” he deadpanned. “And the only way I'm going to undo those knots is if you can _promise_ to behave yourself for the rest of the day.

Frisk just stared at him.

And stared and stared.

“... Are you serious,” they stated expressionlessly. “You can't _possibly_ trust me enough for that.”

“You make an accurate assumption,” he nodded. “I'll undo the knots right now if you make a promise for me. But only under those conditions. You'll be stuck with me for the rest of the day until you can get your... _compulsions_ under control.”

“You _did_ hear the part about how I'm going to absolutely _murder_ you, right?” Frisk cocked an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Would it be the first time?” he asked tiredly, and for some reason, Frisk just looked away in what might have been shame. He sighed and rubbed his temples, that nasty headache coming back in full force. But they would not speak. They wouldn't even look at him. Papyrus could only sigh and shake his head.

“Here.”

Frisk snapped out of their reverie and stared at the cinnamon bunny he pulled from the bag, holding it out to them. Frisk snatched it from his hand and _shoveled_ it into their mouth, scarfing down the entire thing in a matter of seconds.

“So...” he pulled another one out and passed it to them, sitting down on the floor cross legged. “Do you just... not _eat_ at all before you come out of the Ruins?”

“Not really,” Frisk mumbled through another mouthful of the cinnamon treat. “Usually just some candy or a piece of pie.”

“I'd be happy to cook for you,” he offered, and Frisk's face screwed up in disgust.

“Your spaghetti tastes like dirty bricks and asshole with a side of charcoal.”

Papyrus felt a sinking in his soul and sighed. He should have known that his cooking could use some improvement. The doubt niggling in the back of his mind came right back to the surface.

“I've got some questions – a _lot_ of questions,” he crisscrossed his arms over his knee, staring them down. “And you're going to answer them, to the best of your ability. Understood?”

Frisk just shrugged noncommittally.

“What did you mean by 'you haven't started seeing it yet'? Have you been having hallucinations?”

“They're not hallucinations,” Frisk insisted. “They're _real._ They are real. Very, very real. And they are watching.”

“Who's watching?  
“You'll figure it out when it kicks in,” they added ominously.

“_Why_ do you keep doing this?” he asked, trying not to let his exasperation show. “You don't _have_ to kill anyone. You know that, right?”

Again, Frisk would not look at him.

“... Alright,” he shifted from foot to foot. “That's fine. Tomorrow I want you to stay with Toriel in the Ruins. Alright?”

“... Why?” they tilted their head quizzically.

“Because I'm going to come and get you,” he stated plainly.

“No, I mean - “ they looked mildly disgusted. “Ugh. Why would you even _bother?_ Do you not _remember_ what happened last time you tried that?”

“Isn't it better than the alternative...?” he asked slowly, grasping their bound hands in his, displaying the dust all over their palms. Frisk just froze and looked away again, biting their bottom lip.

“I honestly just do want what's best for you,” Papyrus sighed again. “But that gets a _lot_ harder for me to do when you go off on these... _sprees_ of yours.”

“... You know what?” Frisk stared at him with a dangerous gleam in their eyes. “Sure. You do that. You just go right ahead. You'll figure out it's all useless one way or another.”

“I don't believe that for a second,” he placed a firm hand on their shoulder. “There is _always_ hope for a better tomorrow.”

“And you're just going to keep repeating that lie until you believe it, huh?” they said with no small amount of snark. Papyrus just ground his teeth and rubbed his temples, standing fully.

“You should be safe in here for now,” he put the paper bag of cinnamon bunnies at their feet, and they struggled for a moment before consequently shoving them in. “Just nyerm – _try_ to be on your best behavior. If you at least promise me that you'll do that, I'll untie you when I get back.

“Yeah uh huh sure whatever,” Frisk said distractedly as they tore through the cinnamon treats one at a time. Papyrus sighed and left them then, silently locking the garage door behind him as he left. He leaned against the door and ran a hand down his face, phalanges clinging to his eye socket as he thought. His mind was a blur, and mysteries just kept piling up. It felt like the human had been rambling nonsense the entire time, like he was missing _something _that he was supposed to see and just couldn't quite focus on. Something not quite right. But at least that should keep the human distracted for a while, so that was something that gave him a little bit of hope. It was getting later on in the evening, and he checked in the house to find it empty. Calling out for his brother turned out to be fruitless, as nobody answered. The house was dead silent, and it sent an odd little shiver up his spine for some reason, but he was probably still at Grillby's.

Papyrus locked up the house as well and set off at a steady pace, keeping his head down as he walked but still maintaining a wary gaze as he did so. People were already heading inside for the evening, some still outside talking and joking around, enjoying the company. A painful longing in his soul rang out. He wanted to just drop everything and join them. He wanted to go visit Bunni again. He wanted to just stay in her shop for a while and chat about things. He wanted to drag his brother back from Grillby's and whip them up some dinner and have a nice, normal evening.

The human's words drifted right back to mind, though.

Surely his cooking wasn't _that_ bad... right?

The doubt bit and chewed at him as he walked, marching onward past the welcome sign to Snowdin. He bypassed all of the puzzles and traps, the light snowfall ever so gently beginning to cover them up. He wondered if it would be kinder to simply let them be if they would all be back to normal by tomorrow morning anyway. Papyrus shook his head and kept on walking. It wouldn't do to go letting himself fall down that dark place right now. He had to stay focused. He had already been splitting at the seams all day, he didn't think that he could take much more. The fear, the anger, the guilt; it all just kept piling up on him as he walked, leaden footsteps and hunched back, arms limp at his side for the longest time. He tried to shake it off and forced himself to keep up his steady march, but it was more than a little difficult. All of the worries had no more distractions to keep them at bay, the silence creeping in like an illness as he approached the usual clearing.

  
It was nice here, at least. Trees had been toppled or pushed or pulled over, some outright uprooted. Snowy field clear and waving with little drifts of snowbanks, quiet and peaceful. He found a moment of solace then, a rare glimpse of calmness that he didn't realize just how desperately he needed. He closed his eye sockets and took in a deep breath, clearing his mind and just letting himself... _be._

“Howdy!”

Papyrus sighed as it all drained away, all of the worry and weariness coming right back all at once.

“Hello Flowey,” Papyrus said tiredly, forcing open his aching eye sockets. He glanced down to see the little flower monster peering up at him from between his feet, beaming widely.

“Started to think you had forgotten about little old me,” he said teasingly. “What with your new _house guest_ and all.”

If Papyrus had hair on the back of his neck, it would have prickled.

“So-so you saw...?”

“Silly Papyrus,” Flowey tittered. “Don't you remember? I'm _Flowey,_” his smile widened. “I see _everything._ Now why don't you pull yourself up a patch of ground, good buddy?” he extended a vine from the earth and patted away some snow before retracting it into the ground. Papyrus did as instructed and sat cross legged in exhaustion, letting out a weary sigh as he finally allowed his heavy bones a much needed moment's rest.

“Is there something the matter, Flowey?” Papyrus asked after a few moments of silence. “You said earlier you had something to show me?”

“Indeed I do,” Flowey burrowed through the earth and reappeared directly in front of him, bursting out of the snow. “You know, I've been watching you, Papyrus. I have been watching you very, very closely.”

“That's... creepy,” Papyrus stated. “Duly noted, but creepy.”

“I'm telling you this for a reason, silly,” Flowey tilted back and forth on his stem, still smiling. “I think you've got what it takes. I really think that you just might have all of the right combinations to make it farther than I would have ever expected.”

“I'm not quite sure I follow, Flowey.”

“I'm saying that I think it's time that you learn 'the big secret',” he said in a hushed tone, causing the skeleton to lean in to hear him. “But once you know, you can _never_ go back, Papyrus. You can never be 'normal', not ever, ever again. The truth will _change_ you, forever,” Flowey's face drained of all emotion, a rarity for the little monster. He only stared at him with wide eyes, watching, observing. “So, let me ask you this, Papyrus. Are you really, truly ready to have your fragile, pretty little world utterly obliterated?”

“Flowey,” Papyrus tapped his fingers together awkwardly. “I'm really not sure that I'm comfortable with this line of questioning. I mean, I can _barely_ function with life as it is, and my life is definitely _not_ what you'd call 'normal' at all. I don't even know where to _begin_,” he ran a hand over his head and sighed. “But you know what? _Sure_. Why the heck not. I mean, it's not like my life can possibly get any more messed up.”

And then Flowey laughed.

And he just laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

“... What's so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Flowey waved him off a little with a vine, smirking. “It's just... it's hilarious. You have no idea, and it's adorable.”

“I'm not adorable,” Papyrus said a bit heatedly. Flowey's smile widened to that unnatural length again, his eyes narrowing. A slight shiver went up Papyrus's spine. He tried to move but found a tendril wrapping up from the earth around his ankles, up his legs and snapping tightly around his chest and clasping his entire body in place.

“Are you paying close attention?” Flowey asked innocently.

“F-Flowey?” Papyrus asked, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. He couldn't move, he couldn't look away, he couldn't _breathe._ “What-what are you doing?”

“I know _lots_ of things, Papyrus,” Flowey continued calmly as if they were discussing the weather. “For example, did you know that with enough _determination, _a monster's soul can actually _heal_ itself?”

A vine _shot_ through Papyrus's chest and he _screamed_ in pain, disbelief and jarring agony overwhelming him; but not enough to dust him, not enough to kill him, for some reason he wasn't dead. And Flowey just kept smiling, just kept staring, just kept _watching._

“Now, observe closely, Papyrus,” he was speaking but it sounded as if he were underwater, his head was swimming and it was hard to focus, he couldn't breathe and couldn't _think;_ “You see your floating heart here?” the cracked white soul hanging upside down in front of him was glowing dimly, practically bleeding magic. But Papyrus still couldn't fathom completely what was even happening it had occurred so quickly, the shock of the situation still settling in. This was his trusted confidant, his _friend_.

“W-why-why...?” he sputtered, tasting dust in his mouth.

“Didn't I tell you to pay attention?” Flowey tittered. “I'm only doing this for your own _good, _Papyrus. You should be _thanking_ me. You're going to _evolve_ beyond your pitiful circumstances, Papyrus. You are going to become greater than the sum of your parts. You are going to _ascend._”

Papyrus could only scream in pain as the tendrils consuming his body squeezed harder and his soul _cracked_ and splintered right in half, his mind going white and blank as the intense excruciating sensation enveloping him tore through any concentration he might have had. But instead of dusting apart, instead of falling to pieces, instead of dying on the spot, he felt something... else.

Something fiery and intense, something fierce and powerful. A burning, yearning desire deep in his soul that refused to be put out, and he clung to it with a desperation that he didn't even know lurked within him. He _yanked_ on it unconsciously and found himself gasping for breath face down in the snow, uncertain of how or when he had been released from Flowey's vines. Everything hurt, his ribcage felt like it had been split and cracked apart, his femur was definitely broken and he could have sworn that his hip had at least four fractures, but he was bizarrely focused and alert despite the searing pain he was in.

“And here we are,” Flowey's face appeared in front of him as he tilted his aching head upward an inch, all he could manage through his roaring pain. “I _knew_ you had it in you.”

“W-what-?” he wheezed through the burning in his chest. He pushed himself off the ground, which was surprisingly easier than he anticipated. His legs were quaking and he was so woozy that he could barely stand up straight, and he felt a couple of quickly prodding vines at his back keeping him steady.

“Congratulations,” Flowey beamed at him. “Wow. You actually managed to pull it off. Good job, Papyrus!”

“Pull _what_ off?” Papyrus demanded, now getting as properly angry as he was confused and hurt. “What the _hell_, Flowey?!”

“I told you,” he answered smugly. “You _ascended._”

“That doesn't-” he tried to speak and wound up in a coughing fit, spitting up dust and marrow into his gloved hand. He certainly didn't _feel _'ascended', he felt as if he had just been crushed by a boulder with a bad temper. He wheezed for breath and leaned against a tree, wobbling knees almost giving out underneath him. He was so confused, so taken aback, so terrified. He felt like he was dying, if he hadn't already. “That doesn't explain _anything_!”

“You've been sleepwalking your whole life,” Flowey stated simply. “Now, it's time to wake up. You're going to start seeing things in a _very_ different light, Papyrus,” he gave him an eager wink. “You'll know what I mean before you know it. But right now you have a 'house guest' to entertain, hmm?”

“F-Flowey, wait-!” Papyrus tried to choke out, still struggling just to catch his breath.

“You're in the realm of the gods now,” he outright giggled. “Careful not to be caught praying to any false idols. See you soon.”

And with that, he vanished into the earth, leaving Papyrus bleeding, battered, and utterly baffled.

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus was glad that he had saved that cinnamon bunny after all.

It was a little smushed, and cold, but still good. For some reason it didn't really help to heal him that much, despite the plentiful amount of magic clearly in it. But it still did the job just fine, he could feel the cracks and breaks in his soul and bones mending and knitting back together after that... _situation_ with Flowey. He wasn't even sure what to call it. And Flowey certainly had been right about it blowing his mind, he still couldn't believe that his friend would ever attack him like that. He couldn't fully understand why he would do such a thing to 'help' him, because it most certainly did not feel like help in the slightest. Still, he kept up his pace as best he could, trying his hardest not to limp despite the severe ache in his leg. It burned furiously whenever he tried to put weight on it, regardless of how he attempted to use green healing magic on it. He'd need some decent food for that and some rest if he wanted it to heal properly.

_Obviously none of your own cooking._

He scowled and kept walking, pressing on a little harder despite the pain. And what was worse, he kept seeing...  _things_ out of the corners of his eye sockets. Flashes, blips and wisps of blackness that vanished. Clearly his head wasn't screwed on right at the moment. But could he really be blamed for that? This whole day was just going  _wrong._

His fists clenched and his teeth ground tightly, nobody bothered to stop him or interfere at this time of evening, which he was fine with. He probably looked a right mess too, his battle body torn and crushed in places, marrow wiped from his mouth on the back of his glove, a bit of dust too from where he'd accidentally bitten his tongue in shock, a limp in his leg and an odd swing from a previously dislocated shoulder. Good lord he hoped Sans didn't see him in this state.

He was quick on his way past the windows of Grillby's pub just in case.

The garage was still locked, which was a good sign. He fumbled for his key and unlocked it, slipping inside and shutting the door behind him, not bothering to lock it. He whirled on the spot and expected to be hit again, but to his surprise Frisk was still in the corner, with an empty paper bag kicked off to the side. They glanced up to him in disinterest before looking away, then immediately looking back to him in surprise, crimson eyes widening.

“Oh my god you look like _shit,_” Frisk stated instantly.

“Nice to see you again too Frisk,” Papyrus greeted them tiredly. “Have you behaved yourself like we talked about?”

“Did _you?_” Frisk stared at him. “Christ, what did you do, lose a fight with a lawn mower?”

“Just stick out your arms,” he deadpanned. Frisk did so and he wearily undid the knots, which he noted had been chewed at thoroughly, but he said nothing. He pulled the rope apart and they yanked their hands away and rubbed their wrists, glaring hatefully at him wordlessly. They did eventually give him a single nod, crossing their arms.

“... Bring any more food?”

“In the house,” he stifled a yawn. “I hope you like hot dogs, because I am far too tired to make spaghetti tonight.”

“Never thought I'd be _happy_ for shitty hot dogs,” Frisk snorted as they followed him out of the shed and into the house, where he flicked on the light. He turned on the kitchen light and pulled open the refrigerator and thanked the stars that Sans had a habit of keeping water sausages, simultaneously wishing that at least someone would like his cooking. He heated some up in the microwave and slapped a couple of them on buns and handed them a ketchup bottle, which Frisk didn't even thank him for. They did begin eating immediately though, which left him worrying about how long it had been since they had had a proper meal. He set about making a bag of popcorn while they were still digging into the hot dogs, watching it twirl in the metal box and pop and sizzle as he leaned against the opposite wall. His bones hurt, his head hurt, everything _hurt._ And he just kept seeing _spots._

“... So what _did_ happen to you,” Frisk asked as they finished off the hot dogs, throwing the plate haphazardly into the sink. “I mean, not that I care or anything. Just curious.”

“I had my mind blown,” he answered simply, pulling the finished bag of popcorn from the microwave and dumping it into a bowl, wearily tossing the empty bag into the trash. “Forget it. I'm too tired for anything. I don't know about you, but I'm going to crash for a little bit and watch a dumb movie or something.”

“Same. I kid you not if it's another Mettaton rerun, I'll actually kill you.”

“Don't make me tie you up again.”

“Kinky.”  
“_I swear to GOD Frisk._”

0-0-0-0-0


	28. Fine And Dandy

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus was not normally one to dream.

But then again, things had not been normal for quite a while.

He drifted in and out of consciousness in the dim light of the living room, occasionally numbed from the painkillers he'd taken. The darkness seemed to creep in just a bit closer. The magic in the food seemed to help as well, though his wounds still weren't completely healed, the recovery he was making was still noticeable. The human had long since fallen asleep on the couch next to him, the empty bowl of popcorn tossed carelessly on the floor, but Papyrus was too tired to pick it up. He could barely keep his own eye sockets open any longer as it was, no matter how badly his mind tried to focus on his desperate thoughts. Perhaps that was where the dreams originated, he couldn't really be certain, and that bothered him too. He wasn't even sure of _when_ he started dreaming, only that he was no longer in stinging pain, just drifting along in the darkness in a comfortable but slightly uneasy state, like he _knew_ that he was being watched.

Papyrus was sitting on the edge of his bed holding one of his figurines in his hands, turning it over and over, and every time he did it shifted from one mold to another, from a rectangular body of Mettaton to a little simulation of his brother, to a perfect imitation of the human, to Bunni, to Toriel, to a blank faced skeleton with a crack in the head. He put it on the table next to his bed and ran a hand over his own head, half expecting to feel a crack there too, but only felt the smoothness of his own skull. He felt a small start when he glanced up to see his reflection sitting comfortably backwards in the chair in front of the computer, legs splayed out with his arms crossed atop the back of the chair. They stared at each other for the longest time, neither of them speaking, just watching and watching.

“... Well this is odd,” Papyrus stated at last, his own voice sounding just a bit off.

“Agreed,” his duplicate nodded once. But there was something not quite right about his imitation, something _wrong_, and he couldn't place his finger on just what it was. “You do know that you're dreaming, right?”

“I had assumed as much,” he sat up a bit straighter. “I don't normally have dreams like this.”  
“I know,” other Papyrus nodded again. “We're usually a pretty light sleeper. We must be pretty out of it right now.”

“Right?” he chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. “I think all this craziness is starting to get to me. Us. Whatever. Are we the same person?”

“That's up to you, son,” other Papyrus shrugged, a strange gleam in his eye sockets. The blank flickering on the computer screen lit up for a moment with nothing but sixes for a few seconds, illuminating his duplicate's face in a strange glow. “You're the one that has to call the shots, slim.”

“Who are you?”

“Isn't it obvious?” other Papyrus gestured to himself.

“I mean, I guess it is a bit of a silly question.”

“You only have yourself to blame for that,” his copy winked, and he found himself smiling a little despite himself.

“Kind of thought that my dreams would be a little stranger, really...” Papyrus said softly as he stared out the curtained window, watching shapes and figures drift by in inky blackness. “What with everything that's been happening lately, this is pretty tame. Not that that's a bad thing,” he shook his head. “It's just... I find it kind of weird that my dreams are getting to be _more_ normal than my _actual_ life. You know?”

“Yeah. I know.”

“I'm just so _tired,_” Papyrus sighed into his hands, wiping down his face but feeling only a slight pressure when he did so. His copy only nodded grimly. “You know?”

“I feel it, too,” he answered quietly. “But it's good.”

“How is being tired all the time a good thing?”

“Don't you feel it?” other Papyrus tilted his head ever so slightly to the side. “You simply must. We're here. We're awake. We are finally _alive._ We _are_. DETERMINED.”

“Maybe,” Papyrus shrugged. “I'm mostly just sore and burned out.”

Other Papyrus just chortled in a low, amused tone, shaking his head again.

“How do you still not get it?” the other Papyrus stared him down. “Flowey was right, you know.”

“About what?” he asked, not altogether certain he was going to be comfortable with the answer.

“Just about everything,” his duplicate's eye sockets widened a bit too far. “About you. About _us._ We have been passive, all of our life. But now?” he held up a hand and clenched it into a triumphant fist, smiling widely. Then wider. Far, far too wide. “Now, we can _see._ Now, everything is going to change. And it all starts _here,_” he pointed directly at Papyrus. “It starts with _you_. With _us,” _he tapped his own chest. “We _are_ the change, don't you see?”

“No?” Papyrus blinked.

“_Still?”_ other Papyrus stood, suddenly knocking the chair noisily to the side, causing him to jump. Other Papyrus clenched and unclenched his fists, anger plain on his face. “But it's so _obvious_! How can _I_ see it, but not _you?_”

“I don't know what you're talking about!” he insisted as the duplicate closed the distance between them just a bit more. “We – _I_ – have had _enough_ change as it is! All I want is a little bit of _normalcy_ for crying out loud!”

“But we both want the _same thing,_” his copy held his hands out pleadingly to him. “Don't we? Don't we want the same thing, Papyrus? Just a little _control _in life, isn't that right?”

“Well, yes,” he admitted.

“And there's one definite way to _get_ it,” the other Papyrus's eye sockets gleamed. “By _killing_ that human!”

“_What?!_” Papyrus blurted in shock, unable to believe that something that horrid could ever come from himself. He stood immediately and faced himself down, his own fists tightened in fury. “How _dare_ you! I would _never-_”

“Even _think_ of such a thing?” reflection Papyrus asked in a mocking tone. “But you _would_. You've even said it yourself. Even _you_ don't know what you're fully capable of. And believe me,” he chuckled darkly. “We are capable of _great_ things. Great. _Terrible. Things._”

A cold, unpleasant shiver traveled up the base of his spine. Papyrus crossed his arms over his chest, standing his ground, and his imitation did the same, only smiling widely at him in that knowing, arrogant sort of way that just rubbed him wrong.

“I am _not_ going to hurt them,” Papyrus said through his teeth.

“Really now?” the reflection leaned back just a bit and pivoting on his hips, grinning wider, eye sockets narrowing. “Because you didn't seem to have a problem _bashing their goddamn head in_, now did you?”

“I... I did what I had to do-”

“And didn't they say the _exact same thing?_” his imitation asked quietly. “And yet how harshly you judge them for their sins. You filthy _hypocrite_.”

“You're being unreasonable-”

“_Am_ I now?” other Papyrus smirked. “That's a funny thing to say, coming from you. You should actually listen to yourself, you know.”

“This whole situation is giving me a headache,” he rubbed his temples wearily. “Long answer short, I'm _not_ killing the human.”

“You could let me do it for you,” he offered.

“... Pardon,” Papyrus blinked.

“Given enough time,” his imitation repeated in the exact tone he himself had used before. “Stuck in a time loop, anybody would go crazy. So who would really blame you? If, say, just _once,_ the human were to have a little... _accident?_”

“... Go _fuck_ yourself,” Papyrus stated promptly.

“Excuse you?”

“I said you can go _fuck_ yourself,” he repeated calmly, eye sockets narrowing dangerously. And to his surprise, his duplicate just smiled wider and _laughed._

“_There's_ that determination of yours,” his eye lights brightened. “I _knew _you had it in you. Don't you _ever_ let that fire die, slim. Not now. Not _ever._”

And then Papyrus was left standing alone in the dark of his bedroom, confused and wondering if he had simply been speaking to no one the entire time in this strange, bizarre lucid dream. He stared out the window at the passing shapes and figures and saw spots and dots, all of them following his vision almost like _eyes_.

He felt a sudden compulsion to pull the shades closed and quietly did so, and spent the rest of his dream sitting on the edge of his bed, spinning the eternally changing figurines in his hands. He was just fine and dandy with that.

But curiously, that one toy skeleton with the crack in it never came back.

And the darkness crept in just a bit closer.

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus awoke to the sound of a klaxon alarm, his eye sockets shooting open as he slapped the clock off. He whirled himself out of bed and rubbed his face furiously, trying desperately to recall his dreams – if he even had been dreaming, last night felt like such a blur. He glanced over to the rickety wooden computer chair and half expected to see it pushed to the floor, but it was right where he left it, pushed in under the desk. A quick check off the calendar told him that it was still Tuesday, so no surprises there. He gave himself a thorough checking as he dressed, silently noting that he had no bodily wear and tear that Flowey had given him the previous night, so that was good. Why in the world Flowey thought he was being 'assisting him' with that little attack of his was a mystery he wasn't even sure he wanted to solve.

He still had a terrible headache, there were lines under his eye sockets, and everything ached, but that was just a given at this point. He sighed as he finished dressing in his battle body, fitting on his gloves and giving himself a once over in the mirror. Nothing looked out of place, but something still just felt... off. The memory of talking to himself in that strange dream made a chill run up his back. That imitation of himself was downright creepy. But he couldn't go getting caught up in his own head again. He had a lot of plans for today, he needed to get moving.

More out of curiosity than anything, he pressed a palm to his chest, a little worriedly. Flowey's words drifted back into his head, rather unwillingly, and he frowned. His little friend had seemed so convinced that he was 'helping' him with his violent actions, and Papyrus was all for forgiveness, but if he tried that again he was going to get more than just an earful. Still, something just didn't feel... right. He felt off, he felt unwell, he felt just a little more than shaken, that memory of the _burning_ in his soul flushing right back to the surface. He gradually pulled the soul from his chest, watching as the upside down glowing soul drifted into his open palm, a warm light reflecting in the mirror-

Papyrus gasped in shock and horror, recoiling instantly and unable to pull away from the sight of his own self.

His soul was _black as pitch._

His hands were shaking furiously and he tentatively reached a trembling fingertip out to touch it, watching it wobble and feeling his whole being shake at the slight contact. It looked almost _oily_, glimmering and shifting with color, impossible and uncontrollable as it twirled in his palm, he couldn't stop staring in equal parts disgust and fascination. No monster's soul should _ever_ look like that; just what kind of freakish creature was he turning into? What kind of monster _was_ he now? Stars above, what would Sans think if he ever found out?

Papyrus wanted to be _sick_.

He let his soul drift back into his chest and he felt like being ill as it entered his body, and all of a sudden his uneasiness and worry felt _much_ more grounded in reality than they did before. This was wrong, this whole start to the day was wrong, _he_ was wrong, everything was going _wrong_ and he hadn't even left the house yet.

“O_kay_,” he wanted to cry, but instead slapped the sides of his head a couple of times. “Get it together, Papyrus. Okay. Okay, so we're doing this now. Alright, okay. I can handle this.”

Papyrus most certainly did _not_ think that he could handle this, but he wasn't about to be stopped. He was far too determined. Even the thrumming in his soul pounding like a drum was a constant reminder of the foulness that hid just under the surface, lurking and hiding in wait. He didn't want to think about it at all, but how could he _not?_ Was this a result of what Flowey had done last night? Was this what his little friend had been talking about? He still wanted to be sick, even as he shakily scribbled out a note for Sans and slipped it under his door, quaking as he left the house and closed up the door behind him.

_You are going to ascend._

Papyrus wanted to take his soul out then and there for another look, just to make sure that he hadn't been seeing things; after all, his soul  _couldn't_ look like that, he'd seen it for all his life and it had never appeared like that, so icky and tar like. It must have been one of those crazy things that only he or Frisk could see but nobody else could notice, like that writing that showed up on the ceiling or those little glimmering yellow sparkles all over the place. Surely that must have been it, but no matter how hard he tried to convince himself of such, there was still that worry, that fear, that doubt, that maybe it was something wrong with  _him_ . He needed to find Flowey and get some answers. It would be easier if his head would stop spinning, at least. Maybe that was from the shock still not wearing off.

He gave himself a hard shake as he walked, blinking the spots out of his eye sockets as he pushed on past the librarby. Barry grunted in response when he greeted him, not even looking up from his morning paper. That was fine. Papyrus wasn't in much of a chatty mood. Not with him, anyway. So he continued along his way, stopping just before the general store. What would Bunni think of him if she found out about his...  _condition?_ Would she spurn him for his oddity? Would she accept him regardless? Would she even care, since they were technically still strangers and hadn't even been introduced today? His head was starting to pound all over again the more he thought about it. He stopped at the small yellow glimmer in the snow and kicked at it-

And he felt resistance.

Papyrus blinked in surprise and uncertainty, looking back and forth. He really didn't think that he could manage any more surprises today. Nobody else seemed to see the yellow shine in the snow. So, he knelt down in front of it, reached out and brushed his knuckle against it. And, instead of phasing right through like his hand had every other time he tried picking one of them up, he felt... something. He could  _feel_ the comfort and homeliness of Snowdin and all of its residents coming to life that morning, sense the whirling and twirling in beautiful auras around him. He felt...

_Determined._

**FILE CORRUPTED.**

He blinked again and shook his head fiercely,  _ certain _ that he had just seen flashing words before his eye sockets, but there was nothing there, gone just as quickly as they had appeared. He felt his soul pounding rapidly in his chest and it was weirdly hard to breathe for a moment, and he stood fully and brushed himself off. It seemed that things were starting off strange today and just getting odder by the minute. But he didn't have time to unravel the secrets of the universe, no time to lament the predicament of his soul or the ramifications of his little flower friend's actions, just not enough time in the day. He found himself laughing as he jogged, but he couldn't help it. Funny how even with all the time in the world it still wasn't enough. Almost downright hilarious if it weren't so awful.

He could sort out all of his problems after he'd gotten his current ones under wraps. Procrastination. Fantastic. Sans would be proud, and that thought was even worse.

Papyrus had to physically _stop_ himself from pulling his soul out again, just to check, just to make sure. He was _positive_ he must have been mistaken, something must have just been wrong with his head, he couldn't wrap his mind around that inky _oil_ coloring of his soul, and it left him worried and tense as he walked briskly through Snowdin's trails of puzzles and traps. He waved distractedly to Doggo, who was just settling into his sentry station. He blinked away more spots that flashed in the corners of his eye sockets, giving himself a hard shake and pumping his arms as he picked up into a steady jog. His breathing became labored after a while of running, but at least it was a distraction from the constant internal screaming. He didn't see too many other monsters out this early, just some teens milling about playing with puzzles in the snow and he kept a sharp eye out for his little yellow flower friend.

And though he didn't see Flowey anywhere, he did, however, spot a couple more of those glimmering things appearing as if out of nowhere in the snow. Half out of curiosity and half out of desperation, he tried touching another one he spotted near a microwave trap he'd left out for any humans that came through. Once again, he felt that _rush_ he had experienced similarly in Snowdin, a burning, intense passion that even he didn't fully understand that made his head spin a little. He felt resistance when he brushed against that little yellow spark, and he made sure to pay close attention this time.

**FILE CORRUPTED.**

All of a sudden his head was  _ wracked _ with a violent pain and he gasped and backpedaled, grasping the sides of his skull and trying to squeeze the agony down. It felt like he had just been cracked in the forehead with a hammer, his soul was pounding furiously in his chest and his bones felt like they were on fire, he couldn't focus, couldn't  _ breathe _ -

Then, just like that, it was all over.

Papyrus struggled to blink the blue and yellow spots out of his eye sockets, rubbing the sides of his head. He  _ knew _ that he had seen flashing words appear in the air this time, but why? Where had they come from, where had they gone, what did it mean? His mind was a muddled blur and it was still difficult to focus, the questions just kept piling up.

“What does it _mean_?” he asked aloud, more to himself than anything. But of course, nobody answered. He caught his breath and shook his head, kicking snow over the yellow shine and watched it phase right through. He shook his head once again and left it there, making his way past the sentry station. He was partially tempted to just drop into the seat and wait for the human to come through, but he was a skeleton of his word. He glanced around as he passed over the bridge and stamped through the snow, coming to a final stop before the huge stone door emblazoned with the Delta Rune. He stared up and sighed, running a hand over his head as he thought. There was already too much on his mind, too much to deal with right now. But he did _not_ want a repeat of last time, so he would need to make sure that he did everything perfectly this time. Papyrus made sure to knock heavily on the door a few times first, just in case. But once again, nobody answered. He leaned tiredly against the door, closing his eye sockets and bracing himself.

“Forgive me for this,” he murmured aloud before standing back. He held out his open palm and summoned magic into his extended hand, casting out an array of bursting bones at the stone wall next to the door. The wall splintered and exploded in dust and debris, loudly crumbling and crashing to the ground. He flinched at the sound and cautiously poked his head in, noting just how much bigger the hole was than last time. Surely he hadn't used _that_ much magic, right? Maybe he had misjudged how thick the walls were. But upon close inspection they seemed very sturdy. Perhaps he had just made an error somewhere. He shook his head and let his eye sockets adjust to the darkness that crept in just a bit closer as he made his way down the stone hallway. Papyrus worriedly glanced at the cavern's ceiling once or twice, recalling the cave in from one of the previous timelines. If his excavation had been a bit too close to the door, it could have had some _very_ bad repercussions. He kept that in mind as he rounded the corner, happy to see light at the end of the tunnel at long last.

Papyrus took in a deep breath through his nostril bone, the scent of cinnamon and warmth and comfort and  _ home _ filling him completely as he silently ascended the stairs, all of his worries and fears and confusion slowly dripping down the drain. He leaned at long last on the banister at the top of the stairs, keeping his hand on the wooden support beam and trailing quietly around the other side, one arm pushing him up as he just allowed himself to experience the moment for the moment. He didn't want to alert the home owner to his presence, he didn't want to have to tell any more lies, he didn't want to have to face any more  _ crazy _ today. He just wanted to stay and feel a little bit of safety and peace, that longing in his soul crying out. He eventually closed his eye sockets for the longest time and sighed, just listening to the sound of peaceful humming emanating from the kitchen. An old, almost sad tune that he could have sworn he'd heard somewhere before. Perhaps Waterfall. It all felt so familiar.

He finally walked over to the kitchen before opening his mouth and closing it, clearing his throat loudly and calling out as the uncertainty rose back up.

“Hello?” Papyrus peered around the corner, and the hunched woman standing at the stove jumped at the sound of his voice. She straightened up as she pulled a pie from the oven, holding a mitten to her chest with wide eyes.

“Oh my goodness!” Toriel blinked and gave a shaky half laugh. “You startled me! I'll be just a moment,” she placed the pie on the counter top and carefully removed her mittens, setting them beside the large pleasant smelling pastry. “I know that I have an open door policy, but do please at least knock, will you not?”

“Oh, of course,” Papyrus blinked and nodded once before leaning over and knocking on the doorway to the kitchen twice. “Sorry it's a bit late for that, but, nyerm. Knock knock.”

“Who's there?” she grinned.

His mind went blank as he stared at her.

“Candice?” he blinked again.  
“Candice who?”  
“_Candice_ dumb joke get any worse?” he felt physically ill from telling such a corny joke, but surprisingly, Toriel actually laughed and clapped her hands twice, a large smile spreading across her face.

“Oh ho!” she grinned. “I have got a good one for you! Knock knock!”

“Who's there?” he mentally threw up his hands. Might as well play along.

“June!”

“June who?” he asked, already knowing he would hate the answer.

“_June_ know how long I've been telling these jokes?” Toriel tittered. Papyrus managed a weak chuckle and shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nostril bone.

“Oh my god that's awful,” he was smiling and he despised it. “That's _so_ bad.”

“I apologize,” she nodded after a moment. “I don't believe I've even introduced myself yet. I am Toriel, guardian and caretaker of the Ruins. Might I ask your name?”  
“The Great Papyrus,” he nodded in return. “I don't mean to be rude, Miss Toriel, but I'm in a bit of a hurry. I'm looking for someone, you see.”

“Looking for someone?” she asked. “Perhaps I can help? There are quite a few people in the Ruins, perhaps I have met this person already?”

“You can't miss them,” he said tiredly. “That human sticks out like a sore thumb.”

Toriel  _ stiffened _ immediately and he knew he had said the wrong thing, but it was too late to take it back now.

“Now, this is the really crazy part,” Papyrus leaned wearily against the wooden frame of the doorway, meeting her stern, watchful gaze. “I've been jumping backwards through time. We've already had this discussion about the human. Their name is Frisk.”

“You sneak into my home,” Toriel's hands clenched, her brows furrowing ever so slightly, and Papyrus knew that he was playing with fire but he was just too tired to really care any more. “You tell me you already know about the human, and now you want me to believe you're a time traveler of some sort-?”

“You have always wanted to be a teacher...” Papyrus stated and watched as she fell completely silent. “It's been your lifelong dream. You have empty bedrooms in your house because you've lost people you care about before, and you're afraid that if you let human Frisk go that Asgore will kill them. Am I right so far?”

Toriel's face  _ blanked _ of emotion for a long, drawn out moment, until it finally gave way to a pained, struggling expression as she stared him down.

“... Do not presume to know me,” Toriel stated quietly, softly, but so stern was her tone that Papyrus dared not speak. “You know nothing of what I have gone through. Of what I have given up. Of what I have _lost_. Do _not_ speak to me like that again. Understand?”

Papyrus swallowed dryly and nodded once, not noticing just how badly he had begun to tremble. Odd, he found it, out of everything he had seen, all the things that he could face, a little old lonely woman could so easily shut him down. Toriel eventually sighed and wiped a hand down her face, leaving her just looking sad and tired. His soul went out to her then. He could certainly relate.

They both heard the slam of the front door, and Papyrus spun on the spot and faced the surprised looking human staring up at him. They clung to a stick in their hand, looking back and forth between him and Toriel.

“My child!” Toriel ran to them promptly, brushing past Papyrus, and he caught a strong whiff of that cinnamon and butterscotch scent again that for some reason made his chest ache. She knelt down in front of them and brushed their scratched cheek. “What are you doing here? Didn't I ask you to wait for me? You are injured, does it hurt?”

“I'm fine,” Frisk muttered and shifted from foot to foot as Toriel cast a wave of healing green magic over them. They shifted uncomfortably when Toriel kindly patted their head, their cheeks lighting up for a second. “What's he doing here?”

“So you do know this person?” Toriel glanced back to Papyrus, standing up properly. Frisk just sighed and nodded.

“Yeah,” they stated with a slight frown. “Mom, meet my personal special hell. He's an idiot.”

“My child! It is rude to speak of others like that,” Toriel scolded them but Frisk just shook their head again.

“It's really alright,” Papyrus interjected. “I mean, I haven't made a lot of smart decisions lately. I feel like we have a lot to talk about, perhaps we could all sit down and have some tea?”

“That does sound lovely right about now,” Toriel nodded with a slight smile. “Sit tight for a little while, little one,” she patted Frisk on the head again and headed for the kitchen. “I shall only be a minute.”

It was silent in the dining room for a while before Papyrus leaned over to Frisk, cocking a brow bone.

“... _Mom_?” he asked skeptically. 

“She likes it when I call her that,” Frisk muttered out of the side of their mouth, not looking at him. Their cheeks were still cherry red, a flush creeping across their face. “Shut it, jackass. Don't make me stab you in front of her.”

“Uh huh,” Papyrus smiled a little. “Nice to see you again too, Frisk.”

“Tea is ready!” Toriel came back carrying a large ceramic steaming teapot. She set the table and Papyrus pulled out the chairs, taking a seat in the middle between the human and the monster, and found himself a little relieved to have a nice long drink of golden flower tea. It warmed his bones and soothed his troubled spirit, even if only for a few moments. He wanted to just stay there for a little while longer, breathing deep of the aromatic tea and enjoying some good company in peaceful silence. For just a minute, he could almost forget all of the problems weighing down his shoulders. But of course, it all came back, digging at his psyche like a foul tempered vole with a pick axe.

“... Is everything alright?” Toriel asked, and he pried his eye sockets open. “Papyrus? You appear... troubled.”

“Nope,” he lied and forced a weary smile, no matter how badly it ached. “I'm doing just fine and dandy.”

“You look like a constipated gargoyle with hemorrhoids,” Frisk pointed out.

“Oh gee thanks Frisk,” he stated with no small amount of snark. He looked to Toriel for help but found her covering her mouth hiding a smirk, and he sighed and shook his head. Something, though. Something just felt wrong, and he didn't know what. He couldn't quiet that obnoxious little voice in the back of his head, but after a while he found he didn't really care that much about it. Not caring was nice. This was nice. Wasn't he supposed to be doing something? It was getting hard to think.

“The pie is still cooling,” Toriel informed them quietly. “I do hope that you like cinnamon and butterscotch. We will hold off on snail pie for tonight.”

“Tonight?” he blinked and looked at her, his smile growing strained and worried. He had to forcibly shake himself alert. “Erm, Toriel – I'm not sure how to tell you this, but I don't think that we can stay that long.”

“But of course you can,” Toriel just looked through him. “I have already decided. You shall both be staying here from now on.”

“Well; no,” he tried to let her down gently, but she was giving him that strange look again. Why was it so hard just to focus? “I'm very sorry Miss Toriel, but we really can't stay. I already have a home and a brother to go back to-”

“And you think that you can just waltz into my home and take my child from me?” Toriel's gaze grew _cold_, and he couldn't suppress a little shiver. “No. No, I do not think so. You already know too much, mister 'time traveler'. I mean, I can't just _let_ you leave,” she smiled at him knowingly, and upsettingly it felt tainted somehow. It was difficult to focus, hard to think clearly. His tongue felt heavy as his head, his bones were filled with lead and his head leaking water. He struggled to turn to Frisk but they were already face down at the table, tea spilled out and dripping onto the floor. Papyrus struggled to stand and his legs gave out beneath him, the world a blur of color, and he was caught by a pair of large furry paws just before he hit the floor.

And the darkness crept in just a bit closer.

0-0-0-0-0


	29. Ring Of Fire

0-0-0-0-0

For once, Papyrus actually would have been okay with waking up to the sound of an alarm clock.

But there was none of that this time. He found himself sitting in the dark of his room, staring down at his hands. Perhaps it was not exactly what he was expecting, sure; but he was slowly growing more conscious of where he was as he turned his gloved hands over and over, expecting to see something different, but they were always the same. He could actually feel himself growing slightly more aware by the moment. He found that inexplicably odd for some reason. A dim voice in the back of his head called him to turn the light on and instead of getting up and doing so he _felt_ the room grow ever so slightly brighter. Not by much, but still, just enough to see the gleaming smile of the skeleton sitting backwards in the rickety wooden chair staring at him, and several things occurred to him at once with a start.

Papyrus did not speak, not at first. He just took in the sight of himself, watching his duplicate with his arms crossed comfortably over the back of the creaky wooden chair, the bright lights in his eye sockets following his every movement, the unnerving _grin_ plastered onto his face. Just... watching.

“Was wondering when you were going to snap out of it,” other Papyrus stated quietly. He smiled a bit wider and gave him a lazy half waved two finger salute. “Good to have you back, slim.”

“I'm dreaming again, aren't I?” Papyrus asked, and his mirror image nodded once.

“That would make sense, wouldn't it?”

“I suppose so,” Papyrus ran a tired hand down his face, sitting up a bit straighter. “Sorry, but I really don't have time to stay right now.”

“And why would that be?” other Papyrus didn't move an inch.

“I-I need to _think_,” he rubbed his temples for a few moments. “I'm asleep right now. Why am I asleep? What happened?”

“Well, perhaps it would be wise to retrace your steps?” his duplicate offered.

“My head feels strange,” he pulled his hand away and almost expected to find his skull dripping, but found nothing of the sort. “I remember getting up. Seeing all sorts of strange things. I went to find the huma- _Frisk!_” he bolted up immediately as it all came rushing back at once, a panicked thrumming in his chest shrieking for release. “Oh my _god_ I think she knocked us out!”

Other Papyrus just chortled and nodded.

“See, now it's coming back. That wasn't so hard, now was it?”

“I don''t know how you're so calm about all of this!” Papyrus felt like screaming. “I need to wake up! Human Frisk could be in _danger_, we need to wake up, I need to wake up _now!_”

He slapped himself a couple of times, expecting to feel pain, but all he felt was a dull pushing sensation. He blinked and for some reason the dark room came into view just a bit more clearly instead, and he desperately struggled not to give into the rising panic.

“... Why aren't I waking up?” Papyrus found it hard to breathe. “Oh god, I-I can't wake up...!”

“Whoa, easy there, slim,” duplicate Papyrus chuckled again and held up a palm to him for a moment before resuming his comfortable position. “Remember your training. Try to stay calm, at least.”

“Right,” he nodded shakily, sitting back down on the edge of the bed tentatively, knee bouncing up and down. “R-right. Not like anything could have prepared me for this, but, sure. I have _questions,_” he ran a hand over his head again, straining to keep his breathing normal and steady himself to quash the constant panic threatening to overwhelm him.

“Funny. Me too,” other Papyrus nodded.

“Our soul – _my_ soul,” he corrected himself. “Do you know anything about that? It was... why did it look like that? Why has it changed? Is there something wrong with me?”

“Could be anything,” his mirror image shrugged. “But my best guess is that we'd better grill Flowey for some information the first chance we get. After what he did to you, and waking up to find _that_? There's no way it's a coincidence.”

“Agreed,” he crossed his arms, feeling uncomfortable. “He seemed so _sure_ he was helping, though. I don't know what got into him...”

It was silent for a moment, and the other Papyrus shifted in his seat.

“As for the other part of your question,” he began lowly. “Well. There's quite a _lot_ wrong with you. You do know that, don't you?”

Papyrus started to speak before silencing himself. He closed his eye sockets and pinched the bridge of his nostril bone, feeling that not-quite sensation again.

“... Maybe,” he opened his eye sockets and for some reason, even though he was sure he hadn't moved, he could have sworn that other Papyrus was just a bit closer. “Maybe I'm... maybe I'm not altogether right in the head.”

“Whatever could have given you that idea, I wonder?” his mirror image chortled again.

“Why do I keep coming back to this room?” Papyrus asked suddenly, gesturing around to his darkened bedroom. “It's the same room we were in last time. Why here? Why not, I don't know. Somewhere else?”

“Maybe it's subconscious?” other Papyrus shrugged once more. “Perhaps it's because this is where you feel most comfortable. Most safe. It's like a panic room, I suppose,” he stared off out the curtained window, watching shapes and colors drift by in the darkness.

“But I'm _conscious_,” Papyrus insisted.

“Are you really so certain?”

“I'm aware,” he patted himself down a couple of times. “I'm positive that I'm lucid dreaming again. So if that's the case, wouldn't I have a little more control over my dreams? Wouldn't I be able to just wake myself up?”

“Maybe you're a little more out of it that you previously thought,” other Papyrus proffered unhelpfully.

“I don't _want_ to be asleep right now!” Papyrus was getting angry again and he knew it, he could see it reflected in his own duplicate. “I _need_ to wake up-!”

“Slim. Hey. _Hey,_” he held up his hands, causing him to pause. “_Listen_ to me for once, Papyrus. Get it together, alright? You obviously aren't going to wake up, so let's talk.”

Papyrus wanted to reprimand his copy for his passivity when his friend could very well be in danger, but he eventually sighed and ran his hands down his face in frustration.

“... Fine,” he leaned back and put his back against the cool wooden wall. “You want to talk, let's talk. I want to know who the hell you _really_ are.”

“Come now, Papyrus...” he smiled a bit wider. “I thought we already went over this.”

“You also wanted to kill human Frisk,” Papyrus pointed out. “I'm not about to just _trust_ you.”

“But who else _can_ you trust?” other Papyrus held out his arms simply before letting them drop and hanging them lazily on the back of the chair again.

“Honestly, it feels like that list is getting shorter by the day.”

Papyrus sighed heavily and leaned back against the wall, never taking his gaze off of his reflection. And all the while, other Papyrus just kept watching him, like he was waiting for something.

“Do you know what those flashing words were?” Papyrus asked eventually, sitting up a bit straighter. “When I tried to touch those little yellow things – those _SAVES_, I believe Frisk called them.”

“No idea,” his reflection rolled his shoulders. “One more mystery to solve. But, hey, that's fine. Less history more mystery, right?”

“I strongly disagree,” Papyrus crossed his arms. “I feel like – I don't know,” he fidgeted awkwardly. “I feel like it's all connected somehow. I'm just not connecting the dots. Ugh. Am I stupid?”

“Kind of?” other Papyrus grinned a little. “I mean, think about the decisions you've made recently. Not exactly the brightest bulb in the knife drawer, if you catch my drift.”

“Oh god it _is _my fault, isn't it,” he closed his eye sockets and rubbed his temples. “I really screwed something up, and it bothers me that I don't even know exactly what.”

“Maybe one thing you shouldn't have done is tell Toriel that you know about the human?” mirror Papyrus tilted his head slightly to the side. “That did not end well.”

“Sure, remind me more of my egregious errors,” Papyrus rolled his eye lights. “I shouldn't have underestimated her. My fault again, I suppose.”

“You couldn't have known,” other Papyrus shook his head. “We couldn't have anticipated that kind of reaction from her. But now, we're a little more prepared.”

“You think she's going to do anything... rash?” Papyrus asked uneasily.

“Maybe. It's a reality we should be ready for.”

Papyrus sighed for the umpteenth time and let the back of his head hit the wall a couple of times.

“Frisk is all wrapped up in this mess because of me.”

“I think they were in a mess a _long_ time before you had anything to do with it,” other Papyrus noted aloud. “They've been running jogs a lot longer than us. Remember?”

“Yeah. I still worry about them though.”

“Why? They can take care of themselves,” he shook his head. “They always manage to get through the Ruins just fine, covered in dust or no.”

Papyrus started to speak before he felt a _rumbling_ that trembled throughout the entirety of his world, lasting only a moment but shaking him to his core. He blinked a couple of times and turned to his mirror image, but the other Papyrus was already gone, leaving him all alone in the dark. He stood and drifted over to the window, looking out and saw the shapes and dark colors rushing past like he was seeing everything speed by at differing times. That was... new. He shook his head in confusion and left it at that, turning to the bedroom door and facing his actual reflection. But strangely enough, there was no image of himself in the mirror at all, only the empty bedroom that he stood in. He saw the reflected dancing of his computer screen in the corner with a flashing of sixes for a brief moment and he blinked, darkness swarming him as it grew harder and harder to see. But he couldn't stay here. Not any more. He needed to break out of his comfort zone and do the right thing, no matter what it took. Even if it felt like he was plunging headfirst into the abyss into a dark fiery pit, he had to keep moving forward, had to stay determined.

He drew open the bedroom door, and the shadows consumed him entirely.

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus cracked his eye sockets and found out several things at once.

First of all, he was much more awake and lucid than he had been before. He felt sore, like he had fallen down a flight of stairs, his bones hurt all over, and his tongue felt thick and sandy in his mouth. Secondly, his head was pounding furiously, making it difficult to focus his vision for a long moment. But when he did, he finally realized that he was on his back, staring up at the ceiling, which was covered in every single square inch with little words and strange symbols, all of which seemed to repeat the same thing over and over again.

_ **NOT MINE** _ **.**

“Uhhh,” he groaned quietly, struggling to move. His arms were above his head for some reason and he couldn't move his legs, so he tilted his head to the side and tried to make sense of where he was. It felt far too bright just from the single lamp in the room, his throbbing headache not helping matters. He blinked and spotted a familiar bundle curled up in the corner, just staring at him and watching.

“Frisk?” he slurred woozily, still fighting to get his head in the game.

“It's about time you woke up,” Frisk's stare didn't drop, but they did seem a little more relieved to see him awake. “You've been out of it for a while.”

“What _happened?_” Papyrus tried to sit up again. And to his surprise, he found he could not. He craned his neck at an uncomfortable angle and looked up to see his wrists were tied to the bed frame with a myriad of knots, the scarfs and what looked to be cut up clothing made into impromptu bonding keeping him in place. And somewhat more upsettingly, it looked as though he had been tied right _through_ his bones instead of just around his wrists.

_Oh now that's just cruel._

He pulled hard at the binding trying to snap them and it squeezed his bones painfully, making him hiss as he struggled to move his legs, but found them bent at an awkward angle and tied to the other end of the bed. His confusion must have been plain on his face. Instead of assisting him, Frisk just gave him a slow, spreading _ smirk _, and that boiling frustration began to bubble back up in his chest.

“... What's so funny?” he pulled at the makeshift roping again, only causing a tight pain in his wrists before turning his head fully to them. “This is serious!”

“Not so much fun when it's happening to _you_, now is it?” Frisk asked smugly, standing and crossing their arms. “Hm. Gee. Karma's a real _bitch_, ain't it?”

“You can scold me later,” Papyrus strained against his binding. “Just hurry up and untie me before she comes back!”

“... Let me think about it for a second,” Frisk tapped their chin with their finger as if in deep thought. “Hmmm... no. No, I don't think I will,” they sneered at him.  
“What?!” he blurted, actually pausing his struggle for a moment. “What the _heck_, Frisk?”

“You took an awfully long nap,” Frisk continued as if he hadn't demanded release at all. They spun their stick around in their hand and a couple of times, giving him a meaningful look. “I did try to wake you up, but you just seemed impervious to pain, so I had to wait all that time.”

“Oh god is _that_ why I hurt all over?” he started suddenly, glowering at them. No wonder his battle body seemed to be in such bad condition, even his leg was exposed through tears in the clothing. “Did – were you _hitting_ me while I was unconscious?”

“Consider it an attempt at a wake up call,” they shrugged carelessly. “I could have just killed you instead. Next time don't be _stupid_.”

“Hey, _you_ drank it too-!” he began, but Frisk picked up the stick in the air. They dropped it heavily into their palm, twice, then again and again and again, still giving him that hard glare. Papyrus's throat felt tight.

“Now, _what was_ that threat you made against me again?” Frisk asked ever so calmly, still tapping their open palm with the stick. “Why, I do believe it was _violent_, was it not?”

“There-there's no need to be rash,” Papyrus gave a worried half laugh. “Let's-let's just _talk_ about this for a moment-”

“And when I was _vulnerable,_” Frisk seethed openly, more angry than he had ever seen them. “I just want you to remember that this,” they gestured around, “this is all _your_ fault. You _made_ your bed, now lie in it.”

“Come on, Frisk...!” he attempted to pull the bindings hard enough to snap them again but they just strained painfully through his wrists. “We can still salvage this-”

“Let's play a _game,_” they smiled again, but there was no warmth in it. He'd seen that smile before. Many, many times. That cold, empty, emotionless smile so utterly devoid of life, that looked more like a drawing on a mannequin than anything else. “Do you like _games_, Papyrus?”

He did not answer. They drew closer and held up the branch in display, waving it a little.

“See this?” Frisk continued. “We're going to play _twenty questions_. Doesn't that sound _fun?_”

“So what's up with this crazy writing on the ceiling huh?” his voice cracked as he tried to distract them.

“Oh, _you're_ not asking the questions this time,” Frisk tittered humorlessly. “You had your chance. And you blew it. So now it's _my_ turn,” they clapped the stick harder into their hand, turning that empty gaze to him. “And every time you don't answer, I'm going to hit you. Every time I think you're lying, I'm going to hit you. Every time _I don't like the answer_,” their calm smirk grew twisted as their eye twitched. “I'm going to hit you. Doesn't that sound fun, Papyrus?”

“I prefer Junior Jumbles when I'm bored-” he began and was promptly _smacked_ in the shins. He yelped loudly and tried in futility to pull away, his legs still wrapped tightly to the banister. A hot rush of anger bolted through his chest, one that was getting steadily harder and harder to keep bottled up.

“I would _prefer it,” _he said through gritted teeth. “If you didn't do that _again_.”

“Then play the game,” Frisk stated as if it were obvious. “I didn't think I had to explain such an obvious rule to you, idiot. You either play the game, or you get hurt. That's just how the world works.”

Papyrus could only stare at them for a full beat.

“I think you have a very unhealthy worldview,” he pointed out. He was met with another sharp _crack_ to the knees this time, and he yelled and jerked harder at his constrictions; but they were tight, the knots were done again and again over each other, like Toriel's bindings were meant to inflict frustration and pain rather than to keep him in place, but they seemed to do both just fine.

“So!” Frisk leaned forward slightly, that twisted grin still plastered on. “Are you going to play with me? Or are we going to have to do this the hard way?”

“_... Fine,_” he spat eventually. “You get twenty questions. And after that,” he vowed, that awful _boiling_ in his chest beginning to bubble ever so slightly. “You are going to get _such_ a talking to.”

Frisk just snorted and rolled their eyes. The flickering embers in his chest burned a little bit more.

“First question,” Frisk twirled the stick casually through their fingers. “What did you do to the timeline?”

“_What?_” he balked at them.

“Answer the question.”

“Nothing-!” he tried to speak and was immediately struck hard on his exposed shin again. He snarled and thrashed to no avail, the writhing pain shooting up his leg. “Oh, _forget this-” _he drew in a deep breath and bellowed. “TORIEL!”

“... But nobody came,” Frisk's smile grew a little wider. “These walls are solid. She didn't answer to me either. So go ahead,” their expression slowly grew more and more sour. “Go right ahead. Shout for help. See what good it does you.”

“_... TORIEL!_” Papyrus shouted so loud that his throat felt sore. And all the while Frisk just stood there with the stick in their hand, watching, smiling. Waiting.

No one answered his call.

“See?” he felt something in his chest drop into the pit of his nonexistent stomach. “Told you. Now, where were we?” Frisk tapped their chin in thought. “Oh. Yes.”

They then struck him in the legs _again_, his shout cut short by the ribboning pain flaring up into his hip from their repeated attack. The fear, the desperation growing in his chest felt oddly dulled in comparison to the _anger_ growling for release.

“Next question!” Frisk continued cheerfully. “Why do you remember the timelines now?”

“I don't know!” he answered honestly. They raised the stick again and he blurted “It just _happened_ – I didn't do anything!”

“Really now?”they tilted their head slightly to the side, hair falling a bit over their eyes. “I find that _awfully _hard to believe. That kind of thing doesn't just happen _all of a sudden_ without good reason.”

“Well what's your excuse?” he struggled to keep them distracted. At least, long enough for them not to realize what he was preparing as he silently summoned magic up as stealthily as he could, in little drips and drains, but between the pain and the anger it was difficult enough. “How do _you_ remember so much-”

He tried to keep their attention diverted but his thoughts ran afoul when Frisk picked up the stick and _pummeled_ it into his leg, always in the same spot, harder than before. He screamed and pulled at the impromptu ropes, tears forming in his eye sockets from the violent agony shooting right up to his chest, frothing anger _pooling_ incessantly all the while.

“_I_ ask the questions. Remember?” Frisk asked sweetly, like they weren't literally torturing him for information. “Next question. Who _else_ have you told about our... _experiences?_”

He strained to keep drawing in magic despite how heavy the burden just to pull in a little had grown, keeping his eye lights trained on them and desperately hoping, wishing, _praying_ that he could pull it off in time. But it was difficult not to let it come to a screeching halt as the realization set in.

If he told them about Flowey-

_They'll murder him._

_Just like they will you._

A cold sweat formed across his forehead and dripped down his cheek.

Papyrus didn't speak and was rewarded with yet _another_ strike across the leg with a loud _crack_; harder than any before, and he felt a weird warmth trickling down his shin through the burning pain. He was crying and he couldn't hold back the pained yell, a cry so loud it hurt his throat. He was gasping for breath at this point, appearing to give up entirely at pulling at his bindings.

“No answer means another smack,” Frisk explained in that sadistically calm tone that just _fueled_ the burning in his soul even further. “You aren't very good at this game, idiot.”

“Nobody,” he seethed through his teeth, shaking his head back and forth. “They'd j-just think I'm crazy.”

“... Next question,” Frisk at least seemed somewhat satisfied with that answer, and he thanked every star that they didn't strike him again. “What did you do to my SAVE points?”

“Those yellow things?” Papyrus fought for breath, sweat coating his body. But he was close, so _close_. “Nothing. They just showed up one day-”

Frisk raised the stick and he cringed hard; but they didn't move for a moment, just tapping it into their palm a couple of times, and he noticed an uncomfortable dusty redness at the end of it.

“Ah ha,” Frisk smirked. “Two for flinching.”

“No _wait-_!”

Papyrus _screamed_ in agony as they _slammed_ his leg so hard that he felt something snap – his mind went horridly, blissfully blank for a brief moment, but then the pain came rushing right in and swarmed his every thought, he thrashed involuntarily as it washed over him in terrible waves. He was sobbing openly at this point but he didn't _care_, and clearly neither did the human. They just kept tapping their open palm and smiled, like it was just another ordinary day. A throbbing migraine was tearing through his head and he just almost lost all of the effort he had been silently drawing inward, the terror of what was likely to happen to him if he failed all too prominent in his dulled thoughts.

“You – are getting – bent _right_ over my knee,” he growled in what little gasps he could manage. That furious burning fire in his soul refused to be put out, refused to die down, the wrath almost overtaking him completely, like he was falling down and down to a terrible end. But Frisk only laughed that cold, empty laugh again, shaking their head as if in disbelief.

“The things that come out of people when they're in pain,” they tilted their head again, as if listening to someone else. “That's when they show their real colors. You? Deep down, you're just like the others. You must know that.”

“We can – still talk...” Papyrus felt a surging rush in his chest, a hopeful little spark as they stared at him with a strange expression. “Please, Frisk, just-just _listen_ for a second. Show a little _mercy_.”

“... You're wrong. You are wrong,” Frisk's face drained of all emotion. They raised their arm, and held it, fingers clenched so tightly that their knuckles were turning white. But they didn't strike. Not immediately. That hope still lingered in him, still clinging on with everything he had. “In this world... it's kill or be killed.”

“That's just not _true,_” he pleaded, catching their icy gaze. “The world isn't all bad. I could show you that, if... if you just gave it a chance.”

And the look that they gave him, somehow, made something deep in him ache. That sad, knowing, pained sort of expression that just did not belong on their features. But then it dipped and drained into a cold, venomous glower, lips twitching into a scowl.

“Mercy is for the _weak_.”

Frisk struck with the speed of a cobra, and he felt the concurrent bite follow. It seared through his whole body as his shin cracked, and his bloodcurdling scream of pain, of betrayal, of _rage_ resounded so loudly through the room that it actually made them flinch; and it all burned and boiled and _roared_ in his chest so violently that he couldn't contain it any more, an explosive _burst _ of magic coursing through his upper body as his tight bindings _snapped_ . Frisk barked in shock at his sudden upward motion and tried to bolt but they weren't fast enough, not for him. He grabbed them viciously with an arm wrapped tightly around their neck and _yanked_ them off the ground. Frisk gasped for breath and tried to hit him with the stick swinging up behind them and to the side, striking him in the side of the head so hard that he saw spots and little black wisps in the corners of his vision. But he didn't let go, no matter how hard they hit him, no matter how many times they struck, and he finally managed with some difficulty to fight them for control to grab their flailing arm with the weapon, pinning it to their side as he squeezed their neck hard.

“_... Mercy is for the weak,_” he parroted their words back to them, the tightness in his forearm like trying to hold down a frightened feral badger. They stilled slightly at his declaration, dropping the stick to use both hands to uselessly pull at his arm in attempt for air.

“I-I wasn't actually – going to kill you...!” Frisk gasped for breath. “L-let... let g-go-!”

“_Why?_” Papyrus seethed in barely concealed _outrage_. “After everything you've done to me?! Do you even _know what I'm capable of right now...?_” he asked and _squeezed_ their neck just a bit tighter. He felt them stiffen and shiver, going slightly limp in his grasp. They didn't speak, did not answer. They just silently cried and shook like grass in the breeze.

Papyrus eventually sighed, quietly, lowly, letting out a long overdue hiss through his teeth.

And against his better judgment, against his common sense, against all rational reason...

He let go.

Frisk dropped to the floor and coughed, choking and wheezing for oxygen. They whirled on their knees and fought gravity to stand, stumbling, and apparently shocked at his action.

“... Stand back,” he instructed, and wide eyed and tight lipped, Frisk nodded once and did so. Papyrus squeezed what little bit of magic he could muster into a partially formed shrapnel of bone. He cut through the bindings around his ankles with little problem, trying not to look at the bruises and clear break in his leg that was constantly burning in pain. Marrow dripped down his leg and onto the bed as he whirled himself around, staring hard at them for a long, drawn out moment. He breathed heavily, the simple action of sitting up feeling so draining that it was hard to focus. His mouth tasted like dust and sandpaper, his head was a blur of pain and broken thoughts and rampant emotions that he did not want to face, and his leg was a cracked bleeding mess.

“... We're going home,” he said at long last. Frisk just stared at him. “We're leaving. Get your things. We're going.”

Frisk nodded again and warily reached down for their stick, watching him closely the entire time. They snatched it off the floor and pulled away as if expecting a surprise attack, but he didn't move. He only observed them as they darted back out of his reach, crimson eyes locked onto him the entire while. Papyrus sighed again and held a gloved hand over his wound, combating the overwhelming exhaustion as he tried to form a small amount of green magic to heal up his injury.

It fizzled and sparked in his hand, the weak green bone ghosting through the crack and barely doing anything at all. But it would have to suffice. He started to stand and grunted in pain when his leg gave out, forcing him to catch himself on the bed to keep from falling to the ground.

Frisk watched all the while, that weird expression still on their face, before they finally presented him with something.

“... I, um. I was saving it,” Frisk held out the plate, and he blinked in mild surprise. “For... for you.”

It was a slice of pie.

“I already ate the other one,” they informed him, and their pointing was followed to an indeed empty plate on the floor. “Not poisoned. It'll make you feel better.”

“... Thank you,” he said at long last, gently taking it from their outstretched hands. Again they jerked back like they were afraid, but he made no move toward them. He gave it a small experimental bite after a few seconds, and waited for something to happen, half expecting another unpleasant discovery. But it seemed Frisk had been telling the truth. He ate the rest in one go and dropped the plate on the bed, feeling a soothing _brush_ of cool, healing magic surge through his whole body, through his soul. The cracks and splinters in his leg wove together and mystically knitted back into place. Although he was still battered and bruised badly, at least he could stand. He turned and twisted, testing himself and sure enough, he seemed to be in close to peak condition again. Frisk really had been completely honest with him about that.

“That was sweet of you,” Papyrus said at long last.

Frisk didn't answer, just holding the stick tightly and watching him.

“... I'm done with my slice of humble pie,” he rolled his shoulders and eased out the wretched crick in his sore neck. “Let's get moving.”

Frisk nodded again and followed closely, but still making sure to stay out of arm's reach. It was probably wise of them. Despite finally being freed, that unpleasant _boiling_ in his chest remained. That unfamiliar anger seemed to be latching onto his soul like a leech, sucking out his focus. He shook his head and tried to open the door again, and found it locked.

“She never locks the door,” Frisk explained quietly when he glanced to them. “Except for this time.”

“I see. Back up,” he gestured to them, and Frisk nodded compliantly and did so. He held out his arm and summoned a small but power packed bundle of bones, taking a step back himself and _blasting_ the door clean off the hinges. It seemed that in addition to healing his injuries that pie had given him the magic boost he needed, but he was still worn thin and exhausted. He kicked the door the rest of the way open and motioned for Frisk to follow. He poked his head out the doorway and looked left and right, seeing a potted flower on a stand and some debris from the door he'd just destroyed littering the hall but no one else. Toriel didn't seem to hear anything that had transpired, which he found odd.

“Let's go while we can,” he held out his hand. Frisk hesitated and stared up at him in confusion and worry. He sighed and gave his arm a little shake, staring back at them. “Just take my hand.”

“But... but I-”

“We're talking about it later,” he assured them. “Let's just get out of here before she notices.”

Frisk nodded in silence and finally took his hand, carefully, trembling fingers latching onto his own. Papyrus turned and led them down the hall to the stairs as quickly and silently as he could. They traversed down the flight of stairs with no problem and deep, deep into the basement hallway. The air felt a little cooler down here and he blew out a breath through his nostril bone, the dusty musk overshadowed by the scent of cinnamon and butterscotch still clinging to him. He could almost hear what sounded like whispering from somewhere very far away.

They weren't stopped even as they rounded the corner and made the long trip down the hall, further and further into the dark, and he couldn't even see the light at the end of the tunnel. All it took was a bit more walking to discover why. The hole in the wall seemed to have been patched up, just like it had before, and they found the caprine goat woman with her back turned to them. She chanted at a slow but steady pace, the quiet rumbling of powerful, old magic thick in the air as she held out her open palms to the tall runed door, oblivious to their precense.

“... Toriel?” Papyrus asked at last, causing her to jolt and pause her spell. She whirled her head around and the rest of her followed suit, her surprise blatant before it fell into a disapproving glare.

“What are you doing out of your room?” Toriel's hands clenched into fists.  
“I'm sorry, Toriel,” Papyrus said tiredly. “But... we need to leave.”

“You... you naive fool,” Toriel shook her head, sadness plain on her face. “They... _Asgore_ – will _kill_ them. You will never heal from the heartache. I am only doing what is best for you,” she stated softly, but firmly. “Now. Go back upstairs.”

“_No_, Toriel-” he frowned, brow bones furrowing tightly. Frisk's grip on his hand grew a little tighter and they tried to stand next to him, but kept looking back and forth between the two as if unsure of what to expect. “No. This has gone on for long enough. It's time for us to go.”

“... Fine,” her nostrils flared and two flaming balls of magic burst from her fingertips, swirling and twirling in her palms. “You want to leave so badly?” Papyrus felt quite a lot as if he had just made one more very, very bad decision as she stood tall and firm as an oak before them, magic emanating from her in powerful crashing waves. “Then prove to me...”

Jetting gouts of flame _exploded_ around them all, encircling them in a burning ring of fire, and Papyrus instantly summoned a bone club into his hand and pushed Frisk behind him to protect them with his own body. Determination thrummed through his soul as he clenched his weapon and held it like a fencer, fear climbing steadily up his back as he stared down a living monument of willpower.

“Then _prove to me you can survive._”

0-0-0-0-0


	30. Slim Pickings

0-0-0-0-0

Of all the things Papyrus had been anticipating today, it most certainly hadn't been this.

Papyrus only narrowly sidestepped a lance of fire, pulling Frisk with him out of the way. Panic was beginning to overwhelm his senses as the ring of flame grew just a bit higher around them, shadows dancing in silent manic laughter over the cavernous walls.

“Toriel, stop-!” he demanded as she hurled a fireball at him. His outcry went ignored as he ducked and covered Frisk with his body, feeling them tighten in reflex as a burning sensation washed over his back. “Stop, for the love of god, you almost hit Frisk...!”

“I will teach you both the lesson you need to learn,” Toriel responded somewhat shakily, pointing firmly behind him as he stood and warily defended the trembling human as best he could. “Now listen to your elder. And go. To. Your. _Room._”

“This is _insane!_” Papyrus insisted even as she summoned a slowly growing ball of whitened fire in one hand. “I don't want to _fight_ you, but if you don't stop I will _have_ to-”

“And that is precisely the point,” she nodded once. “Now defend yourself.”

“But I-”

Papyrus couldn't finish his sentence as the glowing fiery ball she had been building flew in a straight line toward him. He gripped the summoned bone club as tightly as he could and swung it like a baseball bat, bouncing the spinning sphere of suffering at an arcing angle off to the side; it exploded as it hit the stone and heat bathed him in the splash, snaring his arm and he had to quickly release Frisk to slap desperately at the fire eating into his shoulder. He was gasping for breath even as Toriel readied another attack and sent an entire _swarm_ of thunderous fire barreling down the hall at him. He shoved Frisk split-second away to the ground and took the brunt of the assault, screaming as he threw up his arms uselessly and took the damage head on.

Frisk gaped at him and struggled to their feet, eyes wide and glimmering in the flashing lights.

“That's enough!” Frisk surprised him with their shout, muffled as it was by the circling embers. “Mom – Toriel, stop; I said _stop!_”

Papyrus wheezed for breath and felt a _surge_ in his soul when she readied another attack – but Papyrus was already fed up with this fight, sick of being pushed around, and absolutely _done_ with today. The magical flame in her hand was promptly _shot out_ of her grasp and even she jolted when the bone blasted right through her palm and lodged itself with a loud _crack!_ into the wall behind her. Toriel's lips tightened significantly as she threw her arms out and drew them upwards, he could feel the magic being siphoned by her into yet another move.

“Don't make me do this,” Papyrus tried to sound as calm as he could, regardless of the situation. She paused for just a moment, not speaking at all, and despite how feverishly he wracked his mind he couldn't seem to find the right thing to say. “Please, Toriel. This is enough, just _think_ about what you're doing for a minute.”

“I am doing,” she said through her teeth, eyes darkening. “What is for the _best_. Do you truly believe that I do not have your interests at heart?”

“Given that you're trying to kill us,” he shot back with a slight, and unexpected, growing scowl. “I admit that I find it a little hard to accept.”

A slew of spewing fire blasted forth from her fingertips and Papyrus, moving swiftly, dodged to cover Frisk and hurtled up a shield of bone that only narrowly diverted the flames, gnashing and biting around them. Perhaps it was her own fury that seemed to be giving those gouts of energy physical weight, so much so that it was straining on his every fiber just to hit them away. Granted, he had never been the magical powerhouse that Undyne was, but he had finesse in his strategy and molded the bones into an arrowhead to better shield them both from her onslaught. Frisk only stared up at him as if still in disbelief that he was actually on their side, looking back and forth quickly between him and the shield of bones. The flaming cascade of pain darkened and disappeared, and he poked his head over the tip of the impromptu shield and dared a glimpse and, sure enough, Toriel was already preparing another fiery attack as if she was hardly drained at all. He'd give her that much credit, she was practically a lake of mystic strength.

“Can't we just talk about this for a _second?_” Papyrus knocked away the fireball with his makeshift shield and hunkered down over Frisk, motioning for them to back away. But with the encircling blaze, it was difficult for them to get much distance, he was so _afraid_ that any stray shot he missed would find its way right to them; and his fear proved to be grounded in reality, as even when he attempted to deflect her next move he found the white fire _snaking_ around his shield and scorching his chest and face. So painful was the assault that he dropped the shield and instead _bolted_ into it. It felt as though the very life force was being scorched out of him, the exhaustion piling on immediately and almost overwhelming him completely, but he was determined. Toriel was caught off guard in the moment of onward trampling, spurned further by the agony of scorched bone, he tasted dust and ashes and cinnamon as he _plowed_ into her, knocking the caprine woman right off her feet. She hit the floor with a grunt of shock and found it difficult to rise up with the partially broken bone sword held sharpened tip first against her throat.

“I – am so – freaking _done_,” he hissed through his teeth. “With _all_ of today.”

“... What are you waiting for?” Toriel asked quietly from the ground, not moving a single muscle. He noticed only after a few moments that he had knocked her quite literally out of the loop, the circle of fire already dwindling and fading, darkness creeping in at the edges of his vision. “You know what you must do.”

And, despite all of his failings, throughout everything that he had been through this jog, even against everything that he believed in, for just a brief moment, he was almost tempted to just _push_.

The thorough disgust at his own reaction was enough to cause him to dissipate his half shattered weapon immediately. Toriel gave pause and opened her eyes, slight confusion growing on her features. She looked instead to the hand that Papyrus tiredly held out to her, the weariness hanging from him like a dismal cloak.

“... I told you,” he answered wearily as he helped her to her feet, all remaining traces of magical flames burning around them dwindling into nothing. “I don't want to fight. Enough is enough, Toriel. Sometimes... sometimes you have to know when to let go.”

She opened her mouth and started to speak before closing it and covering it with one large furry hand, looking down to Frisk as if just seeing them for the first time. They appeared worse for the wear regardless of Papyrus's best attempts to keep them out of the line of fire. Coal marks were visible all over them and a single scorched part of their jumper had been burned off completely, and they hid behind the skeleton for only a few seconds longer before boldly stepping in front of him, hands in their pockets. Maybe something could still be salvaged of today, even if it felt like everything had gone sideways since he had woken up, there were still at least slim pickings of this situation. Better than nothing, he supposed.

“... He's right,” Frisk said in a low, surprisingly calm tone. “Mom... it's time to let go.”

“Perhaps – perhaps there is truth to your words,” Toriel's shoulders slumped, the trembling of her voice apparent even as she tried her hardest to stand tall. “But do you still not understand? Do you still not see?”

“It's... it's really alright,” he gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “There's no need to fight. Everything is going to be okay. I _promise_.”

Toriel glanced to him with an ever so slightly relieved, sad, tired smile. She nodded only once. In acknowledgment. In understanding. In acceptance.

And then Frisk stabbed her.

Papyrus let go in shock and horror at what he had just witnessed, watching helplessly as the pocketknife retreated from her now torn robe. Toriel gasped in agony and disbelief, dropping to one knee as she struggled to maintain balance, only turning to Frisk with wide, watery eyes.

“In – my most – vulnerable moment,” she gave a wavering half laugh, closing her eyes for a long moment. “You... really are... no different – than them. Ha. _Haa,_” Toriel fell to her hands and Papyrus could only reach out to her in distress, attempting to form magic into a green healing bone and feeling it fizzle out in his hands as he babbled nonsensically in partially sobbed hysterics, dust already drifting through his gloves as he held her.

“... Be good,” she whispered. “Will you not?”

Toriel's form _fell_ suddenly as she ghosted through his grasp, the little pile of dust washing over his boots as he fought the urge to be sick. A single upside down white soul glimmered just outside of his grasp for a moment, then two.

And then it shattered into the air, utterly dispersing any and all hope that Papyrus had yet mustered. He wanted to _vomit_.

“... Well, that's done,” Frisk stated calmly as they pushed past him, walking right through her dust like they weren't even bothered in the slightest. “Thanks for distracting her for me. You're pretty good at that at least.”

“Oh my god,” Papyrus couldn't fathom just how utterly _horrible_ this entire situation was, still trembling violently on his knees as dust drifted like sand through his fingers. “Oh my god, oh my _god_ what have you _done?_”

“Did I, or did I not, _warn _you?” Frisk turned to him on the spot, a flickering of anger dancing across their features. “Did I not _warn_ you, Papyrus? Did I not tell you that it's all useless one way or another?”

Papyrus couldn't bring himself to speak for fear of being ill on the spot. He wanted to shout, he wanted to scream, but no matter how he tried to, nothing seemed to be coming from him but disgusted, angry tears. He barely managed to wobble to his feet, the exhaustion nearly claiming him again as he stumbled over the poor woman's grave and followed the human out the closing door, hearing the heavy slam of stone behind them but hardly even registering it.

Cold wind blew through the forest and whispered sweet nothings to him in silence, singing as if from behind a veil, drawing him closer. It was only for a moment, but in that stretching time, he truly wondered if he had already gone mad and hadn't just noticed it yet. It certainly felt as if he had crossed an invisible threshold, and the realization hit him like a brick.

“... I'm only going to say this once,” Papyrus managed to choke out, fists clenching and clenching, the feel of dust still staining his hands through his gloves. “What. In the actual _hell_. Is _wrong_ with you.”

“She was in my way,” Frisk answered simply, as if that answered any and all inquiries.

“She was going to let us _go-!_”

“Bullshit,” Frisk snorted without looking back, twirling the now dusty knife through their fingers a few times before tucking it calmly into their pocket. “You saw the look on her face. She wasn't going to let us leave. I did what I had to-”

“You didn't _have_ to _kill_ her!” Papyrus outright _screamed_, even jolting Frisk back a couple inches. The heaviness hanging from his shoulders like he was holding up a boulder made him want to drop, but that intense _burning_ in his soul refused to be put out, only intensifying the angrier he grew. “You could have just walked away – you could have just _walked away!_” he clenched his fists and stomped toward them, practically towering over them with his height, but they just glowered insistently back up at him.

“You don't know her like I do,” they crossed their arms defiantly. “One way or another, we'd hear from her again. She doesn't know _how_ to let go,” Frisk declared. “So I demonstrated.”

“Just because she tied us up doesn't mean she had to _die!_”

“Well no _I_ tied-” Frisk started before slamming their mouth closed, but it was already too late. Papyrus only stood there, staring down at them before leaning back on his heels, giving a long, hard look into the cavern ceiling. He barked out a single humorless laugh. Then another. And another.

Then he threw up his arms, dropped them to his side, lay down on the ground and clasped his legs as close to his chest as he could.

“... What are you doing?”

“Assuming the fetal position,” Papyrus informed them in a tone much, _much_ calmer than he actually felt.

“... But _why _though.”

“I can't,” he rocked slowly, holding his hands over his head. “Oh my god I literally _can't_ with today. I can't with _today._”

“Papyrus, get up.”

“Papyrus can't hear you,” he responded instantly. “Papyrus is in _meltdown_ city. Papyrus needs a freaking _nap_.”

“... Shit,” Frisk swore quietly, in an almost amused tone. “I think I broke him.”

“Oh, you think?” Papyrus shot back. “Gee. Golly gee. You think?”

“I have enough snark in my head without you adding to it, thanks.”

“A woman just died in front of us,” Papyrus squeezed his head tightly, the pressure doing nothing to alleviate the migraine or the exhaustion or the horror at all. “You just murdered someone, I watched a woman _die_ today. No. Nope. Stick a fork in me, Papyrus is _done_ like dinner. I just watched someone _dust in front of me, _oh my god I'm going to yartz.”

“You get used to it,” Frisk shrugged.

“I will _not_!” Papyrus shrieked, fighting against Frisk as they attempted to push him into a sitting position, all of his weight flopping to the ground as gravity overtook any attempts to resist it. “Just leave me _be_, Frisk – I am so _done_ with today, Papyrus cannot handle _any_ more crazy right now!”

“Papyrus is talking in the third person like a lunatic,” they patted him a couple of times on the shoulder where his armor had been burned away to nothing and moved in front of him. “Now get up, idiot. I'll leave you here if I have to.”

“What – that's not – you are a _pardox!_” Papyrus said through his furious tears, wiping his eye sockets with the backs of his gloves. “W-what, so you just _care_ about me now?!”

“Oh, not at all...” Frisk claimed flippantly. “But you make a decent shield. I can use that.”

“Screw _you_, you-you... _murderer!_”

And Frisk just...

Laughed.

That cold, empty laughter that felt so familiar. That drew on gnawing fears and deja vu. That joyless, hollow cacophony that bounced off the trees and rippled through the leaves.

“Murder. Is that what you call it?” Frisk knelt down slightly in front of him so that they were eye level. “You should be thanking me, really. I just saved your life.”

“By _ending_ someone else's.”

“... Do you need to talk?” they sat down in front of him cross legged. Papyrus only pushed them away and skirted backwards through the snow on his backside, thoroughly disgruntled.

“Don't act like we're all _buddy buddy_ now!” Papyrus felt the anger clawing at his chest again. He tried absentmindedly to wipe the dust from his gloves into the snow in futility. “Don't _even_ with me right now! I can't – I can't, I can't _even_-”

“You know she'll be back tomorrow, right?” Frisk only stared at him. “Seriously. You're overreacting. Nothing will be any different.”

“Plenty is different,” he shuddered, squeezing his arms and continuing his slow rocking. “A part of me is sullied and dead and it is _never_ coming _back_. Oh god, oh my _god_.”

“... That _could_ have been a lot worse,” they offered.

“Worse,” he blurted in incredulity. “_How_ could that have _possibly_ been any worse? Is this a goddamn _game_ to you?”

“Cosmically speaking? Kind of.”

He followed numbly, still in a state of shock that wore on him in an awful way. It was difficult to push himself to his feet, it was difficult just to walk with the stinging pain he was in, between defending the murderous human from Toriel's attacks and dealing with the aftermath of their little 'game', he wasn't sure how much more he could take. He watched as Frisk crossed the bridge and walked on past the sentry station, taking a single glance at the knocked over lamp and letting out a small snort through their nose. Papyrus said not a single word to them, almost sensing that they were going straight for what he thought they were. And as it turned out, his hunch was spot on, because they were fumbling for the little yellow glimmer in the snow not far away, that 'save' that they had told him about. It was so horrid, so cruel, so unfair.

This time, it was on purpose.

He bolted forward and grabbed it at the same time as them, earning a jolt of shocked reaction from them, and he could _feel_ the cracking of snapping bone behind him even before he whirled on the spot to see the thing. The monster yet not a monster, the humongous, lumbering creature with too many mouths, gnashing silently as it lumbered toward them on crackling limbs.

The last thing he heard was Frisk's furious and terrified screams undercut by the howling of that in between beast as he was torn to smiling pieces -

0-0-0-0-0

He found himself lying face down in the darkness of his own bedroom, the ticking of a clock somewhere far in the distance drawing his attention. He felt no pain, only a light pressing sensation, like he was being held to the ground. He shrugged it off and sat up, leaning breathlessly against the edge of his bed and looking up into the eye sockets of his mirror image that sat backwards in his wooden computer chair, bemusedly watching and waiting. And out the window, he no longer saw shapes and colors in the blackness.

Only a multitude of endless, staring, peering eyes, going on and on forever.

“Slim. I hate to be the one to tell you, but... you _fucked up.”_

0-0-0-0-0


	31. Ashes

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus groaned and pressed his forehead into his palms. This was already not a good start to the day.

“That... did not go as planned,” Papyrus sighed and wiped a hand down his face.

“And, pray _tell_,” his duplicate leaned forward with his elbows crossed on the backrest of the chair. “How, precisely, did you _think_ that was going to go?”

“Why am I _here_ again?” he pried quizzically, peering out the window into the boundless sea of eyes flickering and shimmering back and forth throughout the space. “This-this is a dream. It isn't _real_.”

To his surprise and mild chagrin, the other Papyrus just chortled, eye lights never once dropping from him as his smile grew.

“Now, that is just silly. Just because it's a dream doesn't mean it isn't _real_.”

“That's _crazy_ talk and I'm waking up now,” Papyrus interjected. “Goodbye, spooky Papyrus. Spookyrus. Spookasaurus. Whoever you are,” he frowned determinedly before squeezing his eye sockets shut and rubbing his temples. “Waking up. Waking up, waking up now because I cannot handle _any_ more crazy today, thank you very much.”

“Now, Papyrus. What on earth makes you think you're _asleep_?” his mirror image smiled wider and wider, far, far too wide. Papyrus's eye sockets shot open at the slowly sinking realization that, no, for some reason, he still wasn't waking up. He pinched his forearm, hard, and he felt nothing more than a light pressing sensation before an actual tingle of pain began to set in. A sure sign that this was all a fever dream, all just an illusion; but something still wasn't right, that much was apparent. Not the creepy way that his dreamed up twin stared at him with that tilted, knowing grin. Not the sixes that flashed periodically across his computer screen at random. Not the wildly fluctuating _eyes_ watching his every move from out the window, of every shape and size and color that just seemed to peer right through him into his darkest corners.

“... So,” Papyrus leaned back as he sat on the floor with his back against the edge of his bed and crossed his arms. “So it appears we're doing _this_, then. Alright. I can... cope.”

“You've got a _lot_ to answer for, slim,” Spooky Papyrus stared him down, only adding to the uncomfortable feeling of being watched.

“Like what?” he shot back defiantly, well and thoroughly fed up with everything.

“I'm not just some... _figment, _you know,” other Papyrus rolled his gloved hand through the air nonchalantly. “Of your rather inane imagination, you know. You, much like _I_, are _here_ for a reason,” he continued in a low tone, leaning forward just a bit and rocking the chair on two legs before settling back down. “And I just want you to know... I feel _everything_ that you feel. That burning sensation when someone sets you on fire. That awful wrenching in your chest when you get cut in half. That terrible _agony_ of being ripped limb from screaming limb by one of those 'in-betweeners'. I. Feel. _Everything._”

Papyrus was at a loss for words, uncertain of how to answer. If he even could bring himself to answer at all.

“I feel it _all_,” other Papyrus bowed his head with a small, simple smile. “Absolutely _everything_, slim. Every time you go to sleep, every time you _die_, I feel another little part of myself being ripped away. And I'm not sure how much longer either of us can keep ourselves _together_.”

“So what was I _supposed_ to do?” Papyrus moaned desperately, running his hands down his face. “Human Frisk _knows_ that those little yellow things – that those 'saves' are integral to manipulating the timeline, they said so. So, I thought, maybe...”

“_What_?” mirror Papyrus tilted his head to one side, still with that too wide smile. “That maybe you could overpower them and take control of the timeline yourself?”

Papyrus did not answer.

And his mirror image only chortled again.

“Desperation makes people do crazy things,” he shrugged at Papyrus, tilting his head to the other side before suddenly straightening up, with a very serious look. “But all joking aside, if you do that again, there will be _dire_ consequences.”

“Oh, what?” Papyrus snorted. “Next _you'll_ be killing me?”

“I won't _have_ to,” his duplicate shook his head before turning on his seat. “Take a look outside.”

Papyrus stood then and dared a peek out the window. He looked skyward and found only boundless empty blackness, dotted with those amalgamation of eyes looking down as if directly at him. And then he made the mistake of looking down and realized that there was _nothing there_.

No eyes, no lights, no colors.

Only an endless, gaping abyss.

Papyrus quickly closed the window shades and shakily made his way back over to the bed, sitting down on the edge, but unable to keep one foot from bouncing up and down nervously.

“Okay,” he ran a hand over his head. “Okay, that's... new.”

“There's a _lot_ of new things you're going to have to get used to,” mirror Papyrus stated calmly. “We _need_ to find Flowey, and _fast,_ and find out what he did to you. To _us_. There's something _more_ than what we know going on. This isn't _normal_, Papyrus.”

“And what about _anything_ in my life has been 'normal' lately?” he finally snapped, unable to keep down that uncharacteristically boiling _frustration_ in his chest down anymore. “You think being trapped reliving the exact same day over and over again has been _fun_ for me?”

“Maybe you aren't having any fun because you haven't _let_ yourself have fun.”

“What in the heck is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“You'll figure it out,” other Papyrus gave another one of those lazy shrugs.

“I don't _care_ about having _fun_,” Papyrus insisted huffily, crossing his arms. “I care about making it through one freakin' _day_.”

And other Papyrus just gave him that knowing look again, slowly shaking his head.

“Maybe that's why you had your little... _incident_, hmm?”

“I-I don't know what you're talking about...” he refused to meet his gaze.

“Don't you, though?” mirror Papyrus hummed. “For just a moment, right back there? Do you know what that was?”

“An emotional meltdown, mostly,” Papyrus shifted self consciously.

“You know that little _fear_ you feel in the back of your head?” his copy matched his expression. “That tiny little voice in the back of your mind, wondering _what if?_ Why do you keep denying it like this, Papyrus?”

“I... I don't even know anymore,” he sighed again and held his hand over his eye sockets. “I have so many_ questions_, and nobody seems to have any answers. I think that's definitely a driving factor.”

“So there you go,” other Papyrus gestured to him as if it were obvious. “We _need_ answers. Obviously, we're going to go absolutely insane if we keep trying to do the same things all over again.”

“... I've never been the 'praying' sort,” Papyrus admitted aloud, rubbing the side of his head, glimpsing a sight of those ominous watchful eyes through the curtains, shivering. “But... I get the feeling that I might want to, if things keep going down this road.”

“Prayers, now, is it?” other Papyrus chuckled. “Slim, it's a little _too late_ for that. False idols, and all that.”

“... That reminds me,” he blinked, looking over to his doubles. “Wait. Wait, wait wait. Flowey – Flowey said the _exact _same thing. Do- do you know what that means? What does that even mean, what are you talking about?”

“Do you really not know?” Spooky Papyrus tilted his head to the side, smile twisting a little.

“Obviously not,” he frowned. “That's why I'm asking.”

“You'll figure it out,” he shrugged. “But for now...”

He glanced over to the curtain without moving, the sixes on the computer screen flashing rhythmically for a long couple of moments, and the curtains slowly drew open by themselves. The eyes all drifted as if blown by an invisible wind, like his room was being drawn by a gigantic fishing line through space at a fantastic speed, until all that he could see was lines and blurs of flying colors.

“... Wake up, Papyrus.”

“What?” he blinked, having momentarily forgotten he was even sitting there. His double's odd intonation threw him off, the strange lilt in his voice coupled with his stare not helping. “You're creeping me out, here. I've been _trying_ to wake up the entire time.”

“Rise and shine, Papyrus. Rise and shine. Not to imply that you have been sleeping on the job – no one is more deserving of a rest, and all the effort in the world would have gone to waste, until; well. Let's just say that your hour has come again.”

“What-?”

“The right man in the wrong place can make all the difference in the world. So wake up, Papyrus,” his duplicate _vanished_ without making another sound, the room disappeared, the floor wiped away and the roof and walls dissipated, all that Papyrus was left with was the countless eyes drifting in endless space around him as he fell through ceaseless terrifying blackness.

0-0-0-0-0

“_Wake up and smell the ashes.”_

The klaxon sound of an alarm going off interrupted whatever else Papyrus might have been trying to say, his mind a hurried blur of thoughts and rampant emotions. He blinked hurriedly and struggled to catch his breath, staring up at his ceiling for a long moment, expecting to see blackness and eyes, and instead just saw the familiar poster of Mettaton he'd tacked up there looking back down at him.

“... I could just stay in bed today,” he mumbled to himself, not even bothering to turn off the alarm. He rolled over and curled up into a little ball, pulling the covers tightly over himself. “Nope. I could just stay in bed. I could just stay _right _here,” Papyrus continued to nobody. “Papyrus could just not do _today_ at all, mm-hmm. Papyrus could just not do _today_. I could just do that.”

But the sound of the alarm was relentless, beckoning him ever onward.

He squeezed his eye sockets shut, but it was no use. He eventually sighed and reached out, slowly, gradually, slapping and fumbling to click it off. He swung his legs out of bed with the blanket draped over his shoulders shrugging it off and tiredly stumbling out of bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eye sockets and shifting out of his pajamas as he shuffled over to the calendar to mark off the date.

Of course.

Of course.

_Tuesday._

Papyrus sighed and dressed himself, none too quickly this time. Honestly, he just wasn't in a fantastic mood this time. His odd dreams left him with more questions than answers, but he had a mission, and it drove him forward. He couldn't stop no matter how much he wanted to.

He had things he needed to do, people he needed to talk to, and a metric ton of questions to answer. There was no time to slow down, no time to rest, even though technically he had all the time in the world he had no time at all, and the irony of it all was not lost on him. He finished dressing and gave himself a once over in the mirror. He looked no worse or better than he did yesterday. His battle body had no burns or tears from his battle with Toriel, which was good. That meant she was still alive, that was a plus. He hoped, anyway. He had to hold out hope. There were dark lines under his eye sockets though, he looked as though he hadn't slept in ages. He sighed and pressed his hand against his reflection in silence, just staring into his eye lights for a long moment before pulling away and drawing out his soul for a quick check.

It was oily black, drifting in inky color. He recoiled in disgust and let it fall back into his chest, unconsciously wiping his hand off on his leg. He sighed again and stepped out of his room, making up his mind and striding over to his brother's room, drawing himself up to his full height, and knocking on the door.

“... Brother?” he called out. “Brother, are you awake? We... we need to talk.”

But nobody came.

“... Sans?” Papyrus asked a little louder, knocking again, rapping his knuckles harder against the wood. “Come on, Sans, wake up. I need to talk to you about something, please. This is really important to me, it's time to wake up, lazybones!”

But still, there was no answer.

“Sans?” Papyrus banged on the door, hard this time. “Sans, if you don't answer this door, I'm coming in, I mean it!”

But Sans did not answer. Papyrus heard nothing, even when he pressed his head against the door. He finally gave a grunt of frustration and jiggled the handle, expecting it to be locked, but to his surprise it was the opposite. It turned easily, and it swung open-

The room was empty.

Papyrus blinked, flicking on the light.

The little magical trash tornado that Sans was so fond of twirled quietly in the corner, a self sustaining whirlwind of mayhem. The unused treadmill sat in the room with laundry draped over it, Sans's computer turned off in the computer, his bed on the floor in the corner. And his jacket sat on top of it, Sans nowhere to be found. Papyrus drifted over to the jacket as if in a terrible nightmare that he couldn't wake up from, horrified, trembling hands picking up the jacket in shaking hands. 

Sans would  _never_ take that thing off unless he absolutely  _had_ to. He was  _always_ here on Tuesday. Every single time.

Except for today.

Something was very, very wrong.

“... Sans?” Papyrus all but whispered, feeling harsh burning tears forming in the corners of his eye sockets. He wiped them away with the backs of his gloves, pulling the jacket close to his chest, bundling it up. “No-no no no, oh no, oh no. This isn't happening, not _today, _not Sans, not _now, _oh god. Oh god...”

What could have happened to him? How could he have disappeared this time, of all times? What if one of those abominable  _in_ - _betweener_ things had gotten to him? It seemed that that might have been, out of all things, the most plausible of all likelihoods, as awful as it was to admit, and it made him want to be  _sick_ , it made something fiery and vicious kick like a mule in his chest that he didn't like at all. He cautiously, carefully, gently folded the jacket with shaking hands into a neat little stack back onto Sans' bed and left in silence, trembling the entire time. He was shivering terribly the entire time as he closed the door and sank down outside it, hands against his chest, it was so hard to  _breathe._

“Okay,” he ran his hands up and down his face, struggling to think. “Okay. Papyrus. _Papyrus,_” he said over and over again. “Get it together. Get it _together._”

An in-betweener  _couldn't_ have gotten him. It just  _couldn't_ have, it would have made noise, surely. And Sans wouldn't go quietly, Papyrus would have heard, something would have tipped him off. Surely they couldn't be  _that _ quiet, right? It couldn't have been the human, it was far too early. Sans must have just... left or something. Right. Even though it was only Tuesday, and nothing was ever different on this jog. But doctor Alphys had mentioned something about anomalies in the timelines, right? So surely she must know something about things like this?

“Call Alphys,” he fumbled for his phone in his battle body with quivering hands, struggling very, very hard not to think of his brother being torn apart just as he had been on multiple occasions. “Do it. Do it. Do it now Papyrus just do it don't think, call Alphys. Cal-call. Call. Call her. Call doctor A-Alphys. Call Alphys.”

He punched in the numbers as he sat with his back against his brother's bedroom door, hitting the wrong buttons and almost dropping the phone a couple of times, eventually pushing himself to his feet and almost falling down the stairs as he made his way to the kitchen. He busied himself with trying to make a pot of tea, waiting and waiting and waiting for Alphys to pick up the phone. She always,  _always_ picked up after the fourth ring on Tuesday, every single time. But for some reason, not today. For some reason, today, of all days, something was just not right. For some reason, today was just not going to be his day. He tried calling again, and again, and again, but nothing worked. He even tried calling his brother, and heard the telltale ring of his brother's phone from upstairs and suddenly felt like being sick. He turned the phone off and tucked it away in his battle body, foot tapping against the floor, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited, rocking back and forth on his heels and feeling as if the world was tilting, unable to breathe properly.

“... Okay,” he said more to himself than anything. “Okay. Alright. I can handle this. Papyrus, you can do this. You can handle this today.”

The tea was finished with just a couple of minutes more, and he poured himself a steaming cup of golden flower tea. He drank it down without much thought and filled a thermos full of it, tucking it under one arm. There was a little strap on it that he could use to sling over his shoulder if he needed it and checked the clock. He still had time, most of his plans for the morning having gone right out the window. Speaking of windows, he physically  _flinched_ when he glanced outside and expected to see endless amounts of eyes looking back at him, but saw only the snowy fields of Snowdin outside, thankfully enough. He sighed in relief and wrapped his scarf tightly around him, stepping out the front door. Maybe if he was lucky he'd run into Sans at his sentry station. He  _had_ to be around him somewhere. He needed to find Flowey, find out where his brother went to – he point blank refused to accept that anything that awful had happened to his brother, it just couldn't have... right?

He glanced up and started to wave to Barry, feeling the urge to apologize to him for the way he'd behaved to him in previous jogs-

And there was nobody there.

He blinked in surprise, a creeping chill crawling up the base of his spine.

There was only the cold, dusty wind of Snowdin blowing throughout the town.

“... Oh. So we're doing _this_ today,” Papyrus said to himself, in a voice that came out much quieter than he intended. He was not ready, he was just _not_ equipped to deal with this right now. His footsteps crunched much louder than he anticipated as he walked through the empty town, a gentle breeze blowing his scarf back, dancing over his shoulder as he kept close to the library wall, and discovered a half empty paper coffee cup and discarded newspaper dropped into the snow, dust blowing away just underneath it. A quick poke into the library showed him a similar scene of rapid carnage, as if people had been killed where they stood without a chance to run. He ran a hand over his head in utter disbelief as he left, drifting through the town in a daze toward Grillby's, a half wakeful, ghostly hope that Sans might actually be hiding there almost, _almost_ clinging on, desperately latching onto the furthest reaches of his soul no matter how futile it seemed. But he had to hang on, he _had_ to. 

He passed a couple more patches of dust, careful not to step on the poor lost souls, and whispered a sad goodbye to them and gave them a mournful nod as he stepped by. He couldn't save them, not now. Not today. Today, he was no hero.

He pushed open the door to Grillby's, and it seemed that this morning, he was not going to find anyone at all. There were piles of dust  _everywhere_ . The scent alone was enough to make him choke. He whipped his scarf around over his face in a makeshift mask and coughed and wheezed, holding his breathe, staring in morbid, horrified fascination, almost unable to look away from the grisly scene. Strange, he found it, how just yesterday he had seen someone dust just before him and had been so disgusted, and now here he was staring at dust and couldn't seem to look away. He shook his head furiously and reminded himself that he needed to look for any sign of Sans, feeling as though he were slowly being eroded from the inside out. But he spotted not hide nor hair of his brother, not inside or out, so he left in a hurry.

He sighed in relief as he closed the door the pub behind him, letting his scarf drop and blow in the gentle breeze. Papyrus had so many questions, and nobody around to answer them.

But there was that little yellow gleam in the snow that he spotted and  _grab it grab it GRAB IT GRAB IT GRAB IT **GRAB IT**-_

Papyrus barely even realized that he was kneeling down in the snow until he was actually doing it, and blinked several times. He felt resistance against his fingertips through his gloves. He shook his head and stared upwards, seeing that strange flashing message before his eye sockets for just a moment.

** FILE CORRUPTED. **

“What do you _mean_, dammit?!” he stood and shouted in frustration to no one. “I don't _get it!_” he kicked uselessly at a patch of snow, sending it flying in patches into the air. “I don't _understand,_ what is that supposed to _mean?!_”

But of course, nobody answered his shouts.

Only the whispers of wind blew through the empty main street of Snowdin, dancing rivulets of snowflakes and dust circling in an endless rhythm.

Papyrus held his head in his hands and released a tiny whimper, his throat clenching and his eye sockets burning. It was all too  _ much _ , it felt like the entire world was resting on his shoulders. How was he supposed to handle all of this insanity by himself? How was he supposed to be the brave and daring hero that he wanted everyone to think he was if he didn't know  _ how _ to be a brave and daring hero in the first place?

He eventually sighed and rubbed his face up and down, forcing down the rampant emotions and struggling to keep himself in check.

“Get it together. Come on, Papyrus. Come on,” he slapped the side of his head a couple of times. He felt an awful overwhelming sensation of dejavu creeping up his soul and climbing into his head, trying to strangle him. “Let's get this show on the road. Come on, now, Papyrus. Get it together.”

He checked in to Bunni's shop, starting to speak to her out of habit more than anything, and regretted it immediately. Of course, she did not answer, because she could not. The clenching sensation in his chest came right back. He felt very bad about taking things from her shop, and left some money in exchange, even though it was all useless anyway, he would have felt like a thief if he just took it without paying. So he gathered some things in a bag, even some things he didn't even know that Bunni had stored away back there, and took off at a brisk pace toward his sentry station, hoping against hoping and praying to anyone that would listen that things for once would turn out differently.

But that's the thing about praying to anyone.

Sometimes, you don't know who will answer.

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus did not find what he wanted to on his way to the sentry stations.

He found plenty more piles of dust on the way there, of course. Some smaller than others, and that alone made him feel slightly ill. The shadows of the wafting trees swayed over him as he marched through the snowdrifts, shifting his way oftentimes from the road and sometimes to the sides and over the fields in hopes of finding survivors, but he was never lucky in those regards. He only ever found piles of dust and remains. Nothing good was ever found on his short expeditions. Only brief and shattered hopes.

He sighed for the umpteenth time as he approached his brother's empty sentry station, setting down everything that he had brought with him, the full bag and a couple of puzzle books. He pulled out his phone and tried calling his brother again before clicking his teeth together hard, flinching. He swallowed hard and shook his head, wanting to be sick. No, he couldn't, he _needed_ to keep it together. At the very least... Sans would... be back tomorrow.

And what an awful, wrenching thought that was, it made something vile in his stomach and chest twist and churn, something that he did not care for at all. But he had to accept it at some point or another. Everyone was gone. It wasn't right. It wasn't _fair._ Why did everyone _else_ get taken, but not _him_? Why was _he_ of all people left behind? Why didn't he get dusted, too? Why was everyone he loved taken from him and he got ditched and tossed away like yesterday's paper? It just wasn't _fair._

Papyrus dropped wearily on the rickety stool behind the sentry station and slumped forward, head in his hands and sighed. The human wouldn't be here for a while still. Maybe he could do a couple puzzles or something to pass the time. But then again, the last time something like this had happened, they'd shown up a bit earlier than he'd anticipated, so maybe it wouldn't take too long after all. Then again, it had been 'anomalous' the last time too, so maybe-

“Flowey,” he mumbled more to himself than anything.

Papyrus stood up and cleared his throat, looking around for a moment before putting his hands on his hips, standing as tall as he could, and taking in a deep breath.

“... Flowey! Come on out,” he called loudly and clearly. “Are you there?”

“You really are getting the hang of this,” Flowey said calmly from between his feet, and Papyrus jerked backwards a full foot, quickly righting himself.

“Good _lord_ I will never get used to that,” Papyrus clutched his left arm and brushed himself off quickly and tried to look cool and collected. “Wait – you're still here!”

“Well of course I'm here, silly!” Flowey winked at him. “I'm _Flowey._ I'm _always_ here.”

“I-I, oh my _god_ you have _no_ idea how happy I am to see you,” Papyrus knelt down a little so that he was closer to his eye level. “Holy _moly_ it has been absolutely _insane_ lately, Flowey, I mean, just, _off the wall crazy_, day after _day._”

“Oh yeah?” Flowey calmly cocked a thin eyebrow. “You getting up to all kinds of shenanigans in the last few hours, Papyrus?”

“No, listen-” Papyrus held up his gloved hands defensively. “Look, I'm not crazy or anything – I'm stuck in a time loop! I've been reliving the exact same day, over and over for _weeks!_ I'm not nuts, you-you've gotta believe me...!”

“Easy now, Papyrus, ea~sy...” Flowey held up a vine that popped up from the snow, like a little waving hand to gesture him in a slowing motion. “Don't worry, now, Papyrus. Your old pal Flowey will always trust you.”

“Oh thank _god,_” Papyrus breathed an enormous sigh of relief, dropping onto his backside and clutching a hand to his chest. “_Thank_ you. I can't begin to tell you how _exhausting_ it is trying to explain to someone what being trapped in a time loop is like.”

“I can imagine,” Flowey stated plainly. “So, you see that human yet?”

Papyrus blinked a couple of times, propping himself up on his elbows.

“No, not yet,” he shook his head. “I mean, not _this_ today, anyway. I did yesterday, it got kinda nuts; wait, no, don't distract me with the human!” he shot up instantly, standing immediately. “I need to talk to you, stop that!”  
“Whatever is the matter, Papyrus?” Flowey asked with a little smile.

“One of the jogs – I mean, days, or-or loops, or whatever you want to call them!” he crossed his arms. “You... you beat the _devil_ out of me!” Papyrus's brow bones furrowed in anger, a scowl forming. “You said you were 'helping'” he made air quotes, “and _instead,_” he drew out his soul to demonstrate, “I'm pretty sure that you're responsible for _this!_”

Flowey only stared in what was possibly the first time Papyrus had ever seen the little monster ever display a state of shock. Eyes wide, mouth slightly agape in a slowly growing smile. Flowey turned to Papyrus as the black soul drifted back into his chest, his sharp grin growing wider and wider.

“I. Can't. Believe it,” Flowey stated slowly, eyes thinning to slits.

“What did you _do_ to me?” Papyrus demanded.

“_Hypnopompia,_” Flowey breathed in awe. He turned to Papyrus on his stem, tilting back and tittering. “Goodness. I wouldn't have thought that you would survive something like that, but it would seem that you are made of sterner stuff than anticipated. You certainly are something special, you know that, Papyrus?”

“What are you talking about?” he stamped a foot into the snow, hearing a crunch. “And what are 'false idols', what does that mean? What exactly are 'in-betweeners', why do they show up whenever there's a 'save' around, what _is_ a 'save' made of? What does 'file corrupted' mean? Why does everyone keep disappearing all of a sudden except for us? Is it because of those creatures? How do we stop them? Can they even be stopped? What is hypnopompia? Why does this day keep repeating over and over? Is Bunni sing-”

“Okay whoa one at a _time_ Papyrus!” Flowey laughed aloud and shook his head. “I'd just _love_ to stay and answer all of your asinine vacuous little questions, my skeletal friend. But shouldn't you entertain your... _guest_ first?” Flowey tilted toward the road behind Papyrus, and he turned just in time to see the giant doors far down the road closing and the small figure in a striped jumper shuffling out.

“Oh, fan_tastic_,” Papyrus groaned, running a hand down his face. “Look, Flowey, this is really important-”

But Flowey was long since gone, leaving him all alone in the light snowfall. He sighed and stood, walked back over to the sentry station and dropped tiredly into the rickety wooden stool. He leaned with his elbow on the counter top, his chin in his hand, and simply waited for the human, wondering just how today was going to go.

Given his track record thus far and the fact that they were twitching nervously down the road with a knife in hand, probably not great.

0-0-0-0-0


	32. Friends On The Other Side

0-0-0-0-0

Papyrus waited a while for them to make it down to road to the sentry station.

He kept catching those little black _flickers _on the edges of his vision, little spots like mosquitoes or gnats that vanished the moment he tried to catch them, he was certain that it was all in his head. No insects were ever around in the cold, they only showed up in Waterfall. He tried to distract himself with a couple of puzzles but couldn't focus properly, the deja vu kept making his head spin and his chest tighten with anxiety. He had to keep it together. It was absolutely dead silent the entire time, and Papyrus was just fine with that. Even a few solitary moments of solace were welcome. He sat in quiet behind the sentry station, his foot bouncing slowly in a drawn out but steady rhythm to the beat inside his head, boot making a deep imprint in the snow. He watched the human steadily wind their way down the path and over the bridge, through the gateway and ever onward in a straight line. They kept checking over their shoulder every couple of seconds, almost neurotically, and he saw their lips moving but heard no sound, like they were whispering to themselves. Who or what they were talking to was anyone's guess. Papyrus didn't see anyone around, though he didn't blame them for talking to themselves. He seemed to be doing that himself a lot more frequently lately, too. It wasn't helping him feel any more sane, either.

“Good morning,” Papyrus said loud enough to be heard and they _flinched_ hard and froze on the spot, leg hiking up. They put both feet on the ground and spun on the spot, gripping their knife hard. Papyrus didn't spot any dust on them this time, but that didn't mean he wasn't still in danger. He was most certainly not in the mood to be stabbed today. He stayed on his metaphorical toes regardless of his relaxed position. He leaned back and blew out a long breath, steam wisping up around his head, and Frisk just stared at him for the longest moment, looking at him with a confused expression before finally approaching the sentry station slowly.

“... Papyrus?” Frisk asked at last. “... 'the fuck are you doing?”

“Waiting for you,” he answered simply, shrugging. “Isn't it obvious?”

“Not that,” they snapped, looking over their shoulder again with a little twitch. “I meant, why the _hell_ are you _smoking?_”

“I know, it's an absolutely terrible habit,” he pulled the cigarette from between his teeth with two gloved fingers after taking a long drag and blowing a cloud of smoke up into the air, precious nicotine filling his lungs. “But I have been stressed to all _heck_ and back lately. Do you really blame me?”

Frisk started to reply before pausing, looking back and forth before just shrugging.

“Whatever. Shit's been crazy enough today.”

“Tell me about it,” Papyrus nodded. “Everyone's gone.”

“You too?” Frisk blinked. “Guess that answers that.”

“Nobody in the Ruins, I'm guessing?” he inquired, and Frisk nodded. He tossed away the cigarette butt and opened up the bag he'd brought with him, handing Frisk the cinnamon bunny, and they took it surprisingly gratefully, scarfing it down with wolfish speed. He gave them another and they repeated the process, and he waited until they were done to give them any more for fear of them being sick from eating too quickly. They didn't seem to be too bothered by that worry, however.

“I'm guessing that those 'in-betweener' things are responsible,” Papyrus leaned on the sentry station counter top tiredly, and Frisk took it upon themselves to dig into the bag of treats when Papyrus didn't give them anything else. “At least, that's my personal theory. Those things seem to be popping up whenever everybody goes missing, all at the same time, seemingly. Everyone except for us, anyway. I have no idea why it's just _us_ that get's left behind. Maybe it's because we're stuck in this time loop thing, and they don't really notice us until we both touch those 'save' points? God,” he rubbed his temples wearily. “I have so many _questions._”

“Yeah yep uh huh,” Frisk shoveled down yet another cinnamon bunny, who knew how many they had devoured by now but the bag he had packed down with them was almost entirely depleted. Just how ravenous was their appetite, anyway? “Hey, you got any more hot chocolate today?”

“No, not with me,” he answered honestly, which was met with a dissatisfied grunt. “I brought tea though,” he held up the thermos. “I have hot chocolate back at the house, but honestly, I don't want to go back through Snowdin right now. Too much dust there. It creeps me out.”

“Why?” Frisk popped open the thermos that he passed them and drank deeply from it for a few moments as they stared up at him. “It's just dust. No big deal.”

“Maybe to you, you're human,” he frowned. “Humans don't leave dust when they die, do they? But to us monsters, that's... _horrifying,_” he shuddered.

“Still not used to it, huh?” Frisk blinked and glanced up at him. “Really? You'd think you'd get over that kind of thing by now.”

“I am not getting over it,” he deadpanned. “I am not, and _will_ not, because it is just the _worst_,” he shivered again, crossing his arms. “I don't know how you can just stand there and say that with a straight face.”

“I say everything with a straight face,” they stated. “I'm _amazing_ at poker. We should play sometime.”

“And here I thought you didn't like games,” Papyrus rolled his eye lights.

“I like games when they're fun...” Frisk put their hands in their pockets, looking over their shoulder again nervously. “This game isn't fun anymore. I don't like being out in the open like this. Let's move, bone boy. I need to have a word with you.”

“Oh,” he snorted, not budging an inch. “Oh, ho ho. Oh, that's rich,” Papyrus couldn't help but laugh, no matter how he tried to hold it down, it sounded almost maniacal when it burst out of him. “Now. _Now_ you want to talk. Now, of all times. _Now_ you want to have a discussion like a reasonable person?”

“Save it, jackass!” Frisk hissed at him like a viper perched to strike, and he could see from their clenched expression that one wrong move could easily end with him being dusted. He held his tongue despite his desire to egg them on further regardless of the consequences, answers be damned.

“... So where are we going?” he asked tiredly, standing up and throwing his scarf over his shoulder, tucking the unused puzzle books into the bag along with the other things and letting his other hand swing at his side.

“Somewhere,” Frisk shifted uneasily alongside him. “Anywhere. I don't know, and I don't care,” they kept up the pace easily, almost running and making pace with his long strides, surprisingly. “Let's just get the hell out of here and put four walls between us and whatever the _fuck_ those things are before they come back for second helpings.”

Papyrus said nothing, but duly agreed with the sentiment.

0-0-0-0-0

They took the clearest path straight to Snowdin, bypassing most of the puzzles.

Papyrus tried to ignore the piles of dust and debris that were left behind by monsters caught most likely unaware by whatever had killed them all seemingly simultaneously today. He was willing to put literally every G he had on those in-betweeners, though as to why he, Frisk, and for some reason _Flowey_ of all people were left alone was a mystery. He and Frisk seemed to be trapped in this awful time loop, and he thought that over in silence the entire walk home to Snowdin, musing on it again and again. But the _why_ of it bothered him.

Why, indeed.

Why the human?

Why him?

Why _Flowey?_

The human was a strange case. Frisk was certainly no ordinary person. Sometimes they were chipper and eager as could be, curious and prodding at everything that could be found. Sometimes they were single minded and determined, sometimes a murderous killing _machine_ with no remorse or emotion, destruction exemplified and carnage incarnate. They were the very definition of a living anomaly.

They had also significantly varied up his life since arriving, he had to admit that much. Flowey hadn't been lying when he said his whole life would change. Pretty much everything he had known had been turned upside down since that fateful morning he had met them. He thought back to when they had first cut him down like it was all just yesterday and couldn't help but smile a little wryly. Technically, it _was_ just yesterday, or today, or whatever he wanted to call it. It was all so confounding. He wanted to call up Doctor Alphys, though he had a sinking suspicion that it wouldn't do any good either, as literally nobody seemed to be answering calls at all, and he had a pretty decent idea why. Though at least the human didn't seem to be behind it this time, and for some reason that was at least some small comfort that they didn't have dust on their hands this time.

As to why _he_ was wrapped up in this madness, he had no clue. Maybe it was chance, maybe it was fate. But he was in the thick of it now, he thought as he stepped cautiously around Doggo's remains and past the sentry station. He certainly didn't feel as if he was a great and magnificent person, even if that was the facade that he tried to send forth. But if he put on a brave face for long enough, he was hopeful that he could convince his new neighbors of Snowdin that he really was as great a hero as he wanted to be. Someone like King Asgore, or Undyne. He wondered if they were gone too. Surely someone as capable and competent as they couldn't have been taken out in the wee hours by one of those in-betweener abominations, but Undyne didn't answer any of his numerous calls, and he didn't even know the king's number, and there was no way he had the courage to ask, even though the king was certainly nice enough to give it if he was brave.

Papyrus sighed and kept up his walk, now trailing behind the human at this point, his head bowing a little as he tried not to look at the destruction. All of these people, all of these innocent souls, lost. Because he wasn't there, because he didn't save them. But wouldn't they all think him crazy if he started telling them about monster-yet-not-a-monster from beyond and days that weren't? Because he didn't protect them from an invisible enemy that he could have warned them about. But what good would it even do if they would inevitably forget about it tomorrow? But at least if he could warn them, each day, _every_ day, at least it was worth it _that_ day, right?

But what if he couldn't? What if he slipped up? Like today? Wouldn't it happen all over again? Was this all his fault? It all bowed on his shoulders, it felt like such a weight that it crawled up his back. He shook his head and tried to keep walking, the determination in his soul forcing him onward. He hoped, he wished, he _prayed _that someone would give him answers to his many, many questions. Someone to help him. Someone to ease his burdens. Someone to guide him. Maybe that was why he seemed to be stuck in this loop. It was possible that's where those strange messages came from, stabbed and scrawled into the surfaces in strange places like the walls or ceiling seemingly at random, that only he and the human were able to see, for the oddest of reasons. Perhaps he had a friend on the other side. It was silly, but it gave him an inkling of hope.

And then, there was Flowey.

Oh boy, what a tangled mess of vines _that_ one was to unravel.

Where was he even supposed to _begin_?

Flowey was a mystery in and of himself. He always seemed to be around, even when he wasn't. He always knew where everything and everyone was, even when he wasn't around them. He knew about everybody and all their wants and desires, he even knew about the _human_ right before they fell, how in the _heck _did he know about that? There was no possible way he could have known about their arrival ahead of time unless he could somehow bypass the barrier, and _nobody _could go outside without a powerful enough soul, or at least that was how Papyrus understood the mechanics of the barrier, he didn't have a great grasp on how it worked. It was like Flowey was a clairvoyant, sometimes Papyrus wasn't even sure if he was a monster at all. Papyrus had heard him state quite plainly before that he had no soul or feelings or emotions, and that alone was... _troubling_, for a number of reasons.

He really wished that he could somehow help his little friend with his predicament, he just didn't know how. But whenever he offered, Flowey would just laugh that little laugh of his and shake his head, like it was something funny. It tugged at something in his soul. What was he supposed to do, though? He couldn't just sit back and do nothing when someone needed help, no matter what, he always had to lend a hand to someone in need; even if they rejected it, at least he tried. Despite the circumstances, no matter what, even if the entire world felt like it was being turned upside down and his whole life was spun on its head, he would always _try_.

Maybe that's why he was in this whole repeating timeline shenanigan. Was he being tested by some higher power? He vaguely recalled Flowey saying something like that, being given a second chance to be greater. And he did _want_ to be greater. The problem being that he just didn't know _how_. But his thoughts on that were pushed back down by his rather wriggling doubts, his curious and somewhat disturbed, concerned sentiment on just _why_ Flowey seemed to be at the root – no pun intended – of this as well. He seemed to know of the in-betweeners, enough to know to stay out of their way and even avoid being noticed by them altogether. He knew about the human arriving a full day ahead of time before they fell into the Underground. He knew about nearly everyone he could ask about, he was practically a fountain of knowledge. As to _how_ he knew about so much, that was a mystery as well. He always managed to slither out of the way of his questions just in time, no matter how he tried to wrangle him into place Flowey was four steps ahead of him, every single time. Obviously Papyrus was going to have to up his game if he wanted to keep him in place long enough to actually snag him to really wring him for some answers; _real_ answers this time, and this time he was putting his foot down. No more passive Papyrus.

Not anymore.

He was _done_.

“Here we are,” he held open the front door to his home for the human, not having bothered locking it after leaving. After all, what good would it have done if all his neighbors were dead? Frisk didn't bother thanking him, but they did nod once as they entered. He felt a terrible, crushing, clenching sudden _rush_ of deja vu and clenched his chest, his breath catching in his chest and his head spinning slightly. He tried to shake it off and remind himself that today was a new today, that he wasn't reliving an experience, something to help himself out of the experience, but it wasn't much good. He shakily knocked the snow off his boots on the mat as he entered and let out a weary sigh, not bothering to take off his scarf. He started to, but held onto it at the last moment. It had been a gift from his brother, and he was loathe to get rid of such a sentimental object after he was gone. Even if he would only be gone for the rest of the day, even if he would be back tomorrow, it made something in his soul twist painfully to remove such a thing from himself. So he left it on, and at least felt his soul settle a bit more comfortably.

“I'll make us some hot chocolate,” he informed Frisk as he entered the kitchen and he heard them follow much more quickly.

“Good. Hurry it up,” Frisk snapped. “I'm about to mow the lawn, and your bony ass is grass.”

“Keep up that kind of language and I'll water it down with lemon juice,” he shot back promptly, and surprisingly, Frisk clammed up and sat down at the kitchen table. He accepted the silence gratefully and peered into the kitchen cabinets. There in the back sat the packets of untouched cocoa, as if they had never been used, behind some old cider of Sans' that he'd brought back from Grillby's. Gross stuff. He pulled out the packets and started boiling some water, simply basking in the quiet for a while, knowing that Frisk was most certainly going to give him a metaphorical earful for the little stunt he'd pulled yester-today. If anything, he probably deserved worse. Likely the only reason he hadn't been stabbed yet is because he bribed them with chocolate.

He mentally filed away chocolate as a potential weakness for human opponents as he passed them a steaming cup and sat down at the creaky seat opposite of them. They sat wordlessly for a long while, simply watching the steam billow and waft up into the air, twirling and swirling in little wisps, a silent dance that lasted an eternity between them. Papyrus drank from his cup in the meantime, just enjoying the cocoa and the quiet, knowing that the peace simply could not, and would not, last for long. Neither of them were ever going to permit it. He knew that, deep down in himself. Somehow, he knew that they knew that, too. No matter just how badly he wanted it to happen, he knew that peace, that tranquility, was something that had to be cherished in the moment, because it was something transitory and fragile that he would miss the moment it was gone, a snow rose in bloom.

“... Aren't you going to say anything?” Papyrus inquired at last.

“What?” Frisk blinked at last. “Yeah. I was talking to someone else.”

“There's... nobody else. Here...”

“Yeah. I mean, no. Yeah.”

“... Frisk,” Papyrus started after half a minute. “Do you ever... talk to yourself?”

“Oh, all the time,” they nodded, then flinched. “No, not at all.”

“So, is... that a yes? Or no?”

“Shut it, skeleton. Stop distracting me. I still need to chew your ass out.”

“Kinky.”  
“I said _shut it,_” they _seethed_ openly, red eyes sharpening. “You got us both ripped to _pieces _back there. _Why._”

It was not a question. It was a statement, a demand.

Papyrus took a deep, long, slow, steady breath inward, readying himself. He closed his eye sockets, placed his empty teacup drained of cocoa down on the table, opened his eye sockets, and let out a weary sigh. Then he pulled a cigarette, deliberately lighting it, and took a drag, then blew it off into the air. He dusted some ash into his teacup, giving them a heavy stare.

“I got stupid,” he stated simply.

“You've _been_ stupid from the moment I met you,” Frisk said through clenched teeth. “You _knew_ that would happen, it happened the _first _time we touched a SAVE point, why did you try it _again?!_”

“Maybe I got tired,” Papyrus shrugged. “Maybe I had a bad day. Am I not allowed to have a bad day?”

“... What,” Frisk blinked.

“Maybe I got a little out of it,” Papyrus finished off his cigarette and dropped the thing in the cup, listening to it sizzle in the dregs. “I had an emotional meltdown after you murdered a woman in front of me. I snapped and went coo coo for a minute there. So, you know, I just...”

“Killed yourself,” Frisk balked at him in disbelief. “I thought you were trying to get control of the timeline or something from me,” they tapped their fingers against their still steaming teacup. “But, no. Holy shit. I actually fucking _broke_ you.”

“Are you really _that_ surprised?” Papyrus cocked a brow bone at them. “I mean, we _have_ witnessed some absolutely _horrifying_ things lately. Death, destruction, creatures from outside of space and _time_, and _neither_ of us seem to be able to make it through one _day_. Going a little insane is just par for the _course_ at this point.”

And Frisk just sat there and _laughed._

“... Are you finding this humorous,” Papyrus found himself getting a little annoyed, crossing his arms over his chest as they cackled. “Goodie. I _do_ hope you're _enjoying_ yourself. You are a _guest, _after all, go_lly_ I sure would hate to be a bad _host_.”

“It's fucking _hilarious_,” Frisk gasped for breath as they slapped the table.

“_How_ is any of this funny to you?” he scowled as they guffawed hysterically, tears in the corners of their eyes at this point. His hands clenched and that _frustration_ that he tried so hard to keep down started boiling up again.

“When I stub my toe – it's a tragedy,” they said through wheezes, “When someone dies – it's a _comedy._”

“... You're insane,” he leaned back into the chair and heard it groan, his arms falling to his sides, their laughter bouncing off the walls. “You are a complete and total maniac. I'm trapped in the Underground with an absolute lunatic. What has my life even become.”

“You'd be surprised at how often I ask myself that question,” Frisk snorted and kicked back in their seat with their feet up on the table, quite rudely. They twirled their teacup through their fingers, sipping comfortably at their cocoa, as if much more at ease.

“... Why are you like this,” Papyrus rubbed his temples wearily.

“Like what.”

“Why do you behave the way that you do, human?”

“Because I get off on your suffering?” they blinked.

“Clearly,” he retorted dryly. “I need another drink.”

He got up washed out his teacup in the sink, and dug around in the cabinets for more of the precious stores of cocoa, but there were none left. He sighed after a minute of futile searching, eventually shrugging and finally grabbed the old slightly dusty bottle of cider from the back of the cabinet. He brushed it off and popped the top, pouring it into his teacup as he sat back down. He recoiled at the scent but chugged it down anyway, and was surprised that despite it's pungent aroma it actually wasn't all that bad.

Then the aftertaste kicked in, and it felt like his whole body was rejecting his bones.

Frisk just watched and smirked, nodding slowly.

“... First time, huh?” they gradually raised a brow.

“Don't know how anybody stands this junk,” he immediately threw the entire bottle into the garbage. “What a load of filth.”

“So, we just gonna sit here all day like a couple of jackasses?” Frisk sipped from their hot cocoa, feet twitching left and right on the table. “I mean, not that your place isn't just the _coziest_, but I got places to be, man.”

“Oh, by all means,” Papyrus dared another drink from his cup of cider, giving them a dead eyed stare and forcing down the shudder. “If you want to go back out there, with in-betweeners lurking around ready to rip and tear and eat mindlessly, all by _yourself_, be my _guest_. But I am staying right_ here_ today,” he stated firmly. “Papyrus has had enough. Papyrus needs to come up with a plan of action. Papyrus cannot handle any more crazy right now.”

“Papyrus is talking in the third person again,” Frisk said in an amused, sing song voice which grated on his nerves. “Sure you aren't crazy already-?”  
“_I am not crazy!_” Papyrus slapped his palms against the table and actually managed to make them jump in surprise. He drew in a deep breath and steadied himself, rubbing the sides of his pounding head. “I'm _not._ I'm not _crazy_. Stop _saying_ that. Heck, sometimes it feels like I'm the only sane person _left_.”

“That's how it _starts,” _Frisk gave him a knowing, almost sad, smile. “Papyrus... you know. I can see it in you. It's so plain, so obvious to me. Because I know, because I've been there, I've _been_ in your shoes. You still haven't hit the bottom yet.”

And just like that, it felt like a weight had dropped into the pit of his ephemeral stomach.

“How would you even know something like that?” he asked uneasily, turning his empty cup around and around uncomfortably on the table, trying to distract himself from the rather disturbing thoughts swirling around in his head.

“I told you...” Frisk said in an unanticipated yet gentle tone. “I've been there, man. No matter how you pray to god, it doesn't help. And, I know. It's rough. And it only gets worse the further you fall. You're going to plummet headfirst right into the depths of hell itself, and just when you think you've hit the bottom, you just keep on sinking. That's just how it works,” they shrugged, and he looked up at them worriedly. “Shit sucks, man.”

“Is this just our life now?” he whispered worriedly.

“Kind of?” they tilted their head left and right. “I mean, only if you let it be. Life is kinda like being kicked in the balls, and then everybody sees you getting kicked and runs up and goes 'oh my god, life...! Those are some nice boots.' You can either let life kick you, or you can roll with the punches and fight back. One day at a time, m'dude.”

Papyrus leaned back in his chair, stunned.

“Well, that was...” he ran a hand over his head, utterly at a loss for words. “Weird. A little uplifting, unexpectedly. You really are just a paradox, you know that?”

“I get that a lot,” Frisk put their cup down on the table. “You got any more hot chocolate?”

“All out.”

“Fuck.”

“Language,” he shook a finger at them, but they only snorted and shook their head. He started to speak again but Frisk was already getting up, and he watched as they pushed their chair in and started off out the doorway. “... Where are you off to now?”

“Eh. I'm not in the mood to give you a piece of my mind,” Frisk shrugged lazily. “I've got better to do.”  
“Like what?” he stood as well, curious.

“Well, you said you were staying here,” they started deliberately. “So I guess I'll just have to head through Waterfall on my own.”  
“By yourself?” Papyrus blurted worriedly. “With those in-betweeners skulking around?”

“Yeah?”

“... Screw it. Wanna go on an adventure, human friend?”

0-0-0-0-0


	33. One Day At A Time

0-0-0-0-0

Snow and ice crunched underfoot as the fog rolled over them the further they walked, one before the other, gradually and quietly down the road toward Waterfall.

Papyrus gave one last mournful look behind him as the mist enveloped them, the foul scent of dust mingling in the wind no matter how he tried to ignore it; the souls of so many lost weighing on his shoulders, and the encroaching dread of what he would inevitably find onward creeping into the corners of his mind. But Frisk was waiting just ahead, almost hidden by the rolling waves of fog drifting up from the crashing river where huge chunks and cubes of ice were normally being thrown in to be sent to the Core, no such business today. He thought of just how the people working there were faring, if at all. He shivered despite himself, worriedly wondering just how far the carnage of those in-betweeners might have reached. Maybe it wasn't just Snowdin after all. Maybe there was a reason that absolutely nobody he knew seemed to be answering their calls. Maybe it was a little more fruitless than he anticipated.

_What if we're the only ones left in the entire Underground...?_

“You coming or what?”

“Nyeh. Yes. Yes, coming,” he shook his head distractedly, sighing and throwing his scarf over his slumping shoulders. Papyrus resisted the urge to turn back again, just on the edge of where the snow gave way to dirt and wetlands, to simply give up this mad venture then and there. After all, what was the point in any of it, really? In the grand scheme of things, what was the point of anything? But he couldn't think about that, couldn't let his mind wander down those dangerous dark roads. His bones were still aching and singing from that cider earlier. That terrible rush of mixing vertigo and deja vu. That creeping dread of something watching him just outside of his line of sight in the fog prickled at the back of his mind. All he wanted was to curl up under his blankets in bed, squeeze his eye sockets closed and actually _rest_ for a little while, recover from all of the insanity that seemed to chase him like hungering hellhounds day in and day out. He just wanted a day off from the crazy, was that really so much to ask? And instead, he'd already made his rash decision for the day. He just wanted some sleep. But he wouldn't ever forgive himself if he let his human friend wander blindly into potential danger, and he knew it for a fact. So he steeled himself, picked up his stride, and caught up with them ahead, glad to be out of the fog. But the lingering sensation remained, that somehow he had done all of this before, and he had to forcibly stop and remind himself that it was a _new_ day, that this was something he hadn't experienced before; he had to physically tense himself and clench his fists, steadying his breathing as best he could to avoid thinking about it. Of course, it didn't help much, but did at least slightly alleviate the horrible squeezing in his chest and the rush of panic he seemed to be developing whenever the deja vu hit him. That seemed to be occurring a lot more frequently lately and he did not particularly care for the inclinations behind that.

As it turned out, Snowdin was not, in fact, the only place to have been affected. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief to be out of the clinging mist, but it lasted only a bare moment. Snow packed ice and powder swiftly gave way to dirt and rocks, wetlands abounding. A steady stream of water trailed over the edge of a small cliff nearby, and Frisk stopped at another abandoned sentry station. Papyrus shuddered and held down a gag upon almost stepping right into a couple of piles of dust on accident.

“... He's usually here.”

“Who?” Papyrus asked, half distracted, paying more attention now to where he was putting his feet to ensure that he wasn't defiling anyone's impromptu graves. These poor monsters deserved proper funerals, not wanton desecration. They deserved so much better than this. He should have done anything to help_. _It made his soul ache terribly. He should have done more. He should have done _something_.

“Sans.”

And all of a sudden, any and all of Papyrus's thoughts came right to a screeching halt. He covered his mouth and flinched, unsure of how to tell them. If he should even tell them at all. They stared at him for a long moment, head tilting slightly to the side, tips of their hanging hair obfuscating their eyes.

“... Sans isn't going to be at any of his sentry stations today,” Papyrus murmured through the golf ball that seemed to have mysteriously lodged itself in his throat.

“I see.”

And that was all that they offered, not a kind word, not a hint of comfort, not a single solitary helping hand to be found. They just turned coldly on the spot and kept on walking. Papyrus felt his soul clench painfully and he gripped his chest, musing momentarily if shelving his design to actually come up with a decent plan and instead wandering off on a random adventure with an _actual murderer_ had been a bad idea. This was a person who had literally killed him more times than he could even count, and had likely killed many, many more. This was treason, it was actively engaging in ludicrous insanity, he should be focused on capturing them and coming up with a decent plan, not wandering along the remnants of his friends and loved ones. What in the world was he thinking, gallivanting off on an impromptu journey with them? Then again, he seemed to be indulging in one bad idea after another recently, so what was one more, really? Still, he should be making better decisions, planning ahead, actually thinking of what to do next instead of just jumping on the opportunity to not be left all alone. Because there was a small, quiet part of him that was secretly very, very glad that he wasn't all alone in the house with his brother's remains, he wasn't even sure he wanted to contemplate that right now, so he didn't. He couldn't think about it. If he did, the tears were going to start flowing, and he needed to hold it together if he wanted to protect his human friend. He _had_ to keep it together, because if he started falling apart he wasn't sure that he had the strength to pull himself back together.

But life just seemed to be choc full of bad ideas lately, there was no shortage of them, and the human certainly wasn't slowing down for him. So he quietly shouldered his burdens, grit his teeth, and picked up his stride, looking instead to the streams of water trickling down the wall instead of the little patches of dust scattered around at random. Frisk didn't seem to have a problem walking right through them, but Papyrus certainly did. He went out of his way to avoid disturbing them, even as he tried very hard not to look at them, which made it difficult to say the least. The sight alone was awful, the scent of dust thick and cloying in the air, choking the life from him.

“So...” Papyrus tried awkwardly to stir up some form of conversation as they walked side by side. “... Do you usually come this way on your jogs?”

“My what?” Frisk asked distractedly, kicking aside some dust and making Papyrus visibly flinch. “Oh. Resets. Yeah, usually. The fastest way from point a to point b is a straight line, you know. We're going off the path here, though. I've never... actually done that, it's strange.”

“That reminds me...” he rubbed the back of his neck as he walked, yet another question making its way into his head as he approached a little flowery bridge puzzle, which Frisk completed with efficient and seemingly unthinking autonomous action. “Sorry if this next one is a little weird, but... on those jogs – or rather, days, or _resets_, or whatever you want to call them... what do you usually do after you, nyerm... how do I put this delicately,” he rubbed his wrists uneasily, trying not to think about it. “What do you normally do after you've... killed me?”

“Keep going,” Frisk's answer was prompt and likely honest, brutally so. Papyrus shivered despite himself, thinking on to the poor monsters that Frisk must have come across nearly every time they'd come out the gates swinging, monsters that he hadn't been there to warn, hadn't been there to protect. People who he had made a sacred vow to defend on his honor. And one way or another, he just seemed to be failing them all even when he wasn't around. It made his soul sink terribly. He was such a tremendous failure.

“Do you...” he paused mid-stride as they turned a bend, the echo flowers mysteriously silent for this part of Waterfall. “Do you... _feel_ anything when you hurt other people?”

“Resistance,” Frisk shrugged. “If you're trying to grill me for information about whether or not I feel _bad_ about killing people, it's not going to work. I've been at this too long, bone boy.”  
“Well...” Papyrus kept up the pace with them, silently noting that they seemed to be in a much bigger hurry to get out of Waterfall than they were Snowdin. “You don't feel bad at _all_ about all of the poor people you've hurt, Frisk? Even a little?”

“What does it matter?” they turned on the spot, clearly annoyed. “Papyrus, you know as well as I do by now that it doesn't make _any_ difference. Nobody will care tomorrow. Nobody will remember. Nothing _changes_ with the resets. Everything goes back to square one. So what's the point in caring at all?”

Papyrus stopped them as they tried to turn by putting a gentle hand on their shoulder, giving them pause. He slowly, gradually, carefully knelt down on one knee to be better eye sight with them, the weariness hanging around his neck like a leaded noose. He took a deep breath and chose his next words carefully, thinking as he struggled with his heavy thoughts.

“Listen to me, human Frisk. Please,” he began carefully. “It _does_ matter. All of the people you... _hurt._ Everyone whose lives you rip away from them. Even if you don't think so. It _matters_.”  
“Even when things will just be back to normal _tomorrow_?”

“Think about what it's _doing_ to _you,_” he interjected, and that alone gave them a moment of thought. “I mean, just _look_ at yourself. What kind of sane, rational person would say the kinds of things that you say, and just be okay with it?”

“It's really fine,” Frisk tried to shrug his hand off their shoulder, but he only gripped a bit tighter.  
“_Listen_ to me for once! Alright?” he pleaded. “It's not just hurting them. It's hurting _you._ I can see it all over you,” and Frisk suddenly wouldn't look him in the eye sockets anymore. “Giving in to that kind of violence, that kind of... _evil_ will tear your soul all up, it isn't _good_ for you. It isn't good for anybody. Just show a little mercy, human Frisk. That's all I'm asking.”

“You know how far mercy gets you down here?” Frisk stared at him with a blank, empty, hollow look in their eyes, tilting their head ever so slightly off to the side as if listening to someone that wasn't there. “You know what good mercy does when everyone you meet tries to kill you?”

Papyrus didn't have a ready answer for that.

“It doesn't,” Frisk continued, no longer looking at him, suddenly much more interested in staring down at their shoes. “Try it. Show mercy to someone who won't show any back. Call out for help. Plead, scream, cry. _Beg. _You'll see it's all useless one way or another. Mercy is for the _weak_. You show mercy, and people hurt you. You show mercy, and people don't learn, they don't _change_. They take that mercy and use it against you, manipulate you and twist you for their own personal gain. They hit you, they kick you when you're down and bleeding, they treat you like you're not even a _person_. You show mercy and people will just take advantage of you and abuse you until they're sick of finding new _fucked up _ways to inflict _pain_ on you and throw you out like last week's _trash _the moment they get _bored._”

“... You've been through some very harrowing experiences, haven't you,” Papyrus began softly, putting both knees on the ground gripping their shoulders with both his hands. He held them by the shoulders, giving them a soft look. “I understand.”

“Do you, now?” Frisk only kept staring at him with that blank eyed, empty glower. “As _if._ Don't give me that shit. What would you possibly know about suffering, bone boy?”

“Every single day since I met you has been insane and hellish,” he answered honestly, which made them snort in mild amusement.  
“Glad I could make your life a little more interesting.”

“That's... _one_ word for it, sure,” he nodded. “But you seem to be under the impression that you are the only one who has felt like that. Sorrow. Pain... loneliness?” he shifted his head to the side, giving them a hopeful smile. “But it doesn't _have _to be that way, little one. I promise. I know that being a good person isn't easy. Far from it,” he gave a weak half laugh. “I mean,” he ran a hand over the back of his head. “Heck. Honestly, I feel like I've been a downright rotten person lately, and to people that I care about. To almost total strangers. Even to people that I _like,_” Papyrus continued. “Maybe... maybe I can't _fully_ understand the full extent of what you've been through, but I empathize, I really do. And I'm _trying_ to _understand_ you just a little better, that's all...” he tilted their downturned chin up to look him the eye sockets. “So please, try to remember. Whether we like it or not, we're in this together. I just want to understand you. I really am _trying_ to get to know you better, little one.”

“Why do you even _care?_” Frisk scoffed, crossing their arms. But still they wouldn't look at him, wouldn't look him in the eye sockets.

“Because I think that you are on a dark and _dangerous_ path,” Papyrus stated bluntly, giving them a moment's pause. “But no matter how shadowy the road, no matter how _bleak_ it might seem, I truly believe that I can help you turn your life right around. If even a burned out bum like me can pull myself together for one more day, I honestly believe that you can do a little better, too.”

“... You really are a fuckin' weirdo,” Frisk insulted him openly, but to his surprise, there was a small, ever so slightly tilted smile on their lips. “You know that?”

“Yeah. I get that pretty often. Usually from you,” he chortled quietly stood, patting them warmly on the shoulder a couple of times. “Just try to remember this, even if nothing else sticks. Every challenge, every difficulty is just another personal test of character. You can either give up completely and cave in to the hopelessness, or you can take your loved ones by the hand, hold them close and _try_ just a little harder, each and every day. That's how greatness is made, after all.”

Frisk didn't seem to have anything to say to that. They put their hands in their pockets, head turned downward, eyes obfuscated and almost completely hidden behind their mop of hair. But they eventually sighed, stood up straight and rubbed their eyes with their fists, giving themselves a little shake.

“I honestly don't get you,” Frisk steadily whirled on the spot and kept walking down a small path laden with silent echo flowers. “I don't get how you can just get up every day and just _be _like this.”

“Lots and lots of hard work,” he answered truthfully. “I'll admit. It isn't easy. If it were, everybody would do it. You just have to try a little harder today than you did yesterday. All it takes is a positive mindset and a goal to try just a tiny bit harder. Even if it's just small, little things. I honestly believe that everyone has the potential to be a great person. But unfortunately,” he sighed through his teeth. “Not everybody sees it that way. Not everybody tries. Heck, some people don't even bother trying at all.”

“I-” Frisk started to turn towards him before spinning away so that their back was turned to him. Their fists clenched and balled and then unclenched over and over again, and he heard them whispering something as if to themselves. “... It doesn't matter.”

“It _matters,_” he snagged them by the arm suddenly and making them jump. He stood tall and looked them firmly in the eyes. “Even if you think it doesn't matter to anyone, please remember at least this. It matters to _me._ I want you to know that. _You_ matter to me, human Frisk. You're my friend.”

“Even though I've killed you,” they stared up at him uncertainly.

“And I forgive you,” he answered softly “You're _still_ my friend. Murder or no murder. Though, nyerm. I would most certainly prefer it if we managed to get through _without _the murder, if you please. It... it really, really _hurts_ when you kill me.”

Frisk seemed to all but shut down at that, quivering and trembling on the spot, as if struggling with something that only that they could see. Their hands opened and closed as if trying to grasp at nothing, and they wouldn't look at him at all anymore, instead gazing out at the echo flowers.

“_You_ matter to me,” Papyrus finished gently, giving them one last pat on the shoulder. “We might be stuck in this hellish timeloop day for _god _knows how long. But I want you to know that, even if nothing else. _I_ care about you. Okay?”

And Frisk did something that he most certainly wasn't expecting.

They took a single step forward, pulled their hands out of their pockets, wrapped their arms around his middle, and gave him a single, tight hug. Stunned, he simply stood in place for a moment before leaning down and giving them a warm hug back, pulling them close. Out of all of the things he had been expecting, it certainly wasn't that. But he'd take it. Any form of comfort or peace was such a welcome surprise that he'd gladly grasp at whatever straws he could manage.

“Lets... let's just keep moving,” Frisk's voice cracked and they spun on the spot, continuing their stride

“I think...” Papyrus glanced around at the piles of dust here and there on the ground. “I think that would be for the best.”

After that, they walked hand in hand through Waterfall, and Papyrus had to admit that there was a part of him that was just a bit comforted, having someone alongside him traversing throughout all of this carnage. They were even the right size as Sans, and the painful ringing in his soul twinged painfully at the thought of his lost brother.

But tomorrow would be a new day. Hopefully, a day with his brother.

Hopefully, a day with everyone back.

Hopefully, a day with something to reignite the very hope that burned inside him.

0-0-0-0-0

They were long since off the main road through Waterfall, but neither of them seemed to bothered by the fact. There were fewer piles of dust to run into, and Papyrus was just fine with that. Of course, that didn't mean that there were no signs of destruction here and there; seemingly random piles of dust that had been splattered across the wet stone walls and sticking in some rather grisly places of people who had been caught unawares, more things that Papyrus did not want to think about.

He tried not to think about the people of Waterfall that he would always stop and say hello to on his trips through here, usually to Undyne's house. He tried not to think about how Undyne very well might not answer her door, which was one of the reasons why he was deliberately avoiding taking the fastest route to her home. He tried not to think about the empty house that he would inevitably return to, if something didn't kill him today. He really was getting a little too used to being killed when he contemplated the seemingly minor frustration about his untimely demise. But out of everything that worried him, all of the nasty wretched thoughts that slithered into the darkest corners of his mind, he actually would prefer to be killed by some unfortunate circumstance today rather than the constant fear, the growing _dread_ that an in-betweener was lurking just around the corner, hiding in plain sight, watching and waiting for a chance to feed. Papyrus's mind drifted back to his strange 'dreams' and his doppelganger's warnings. What exactly would the effect of continuously being ravaged by those creatures have on him? On his mind?

On his soul?

He tried _very _hard not to think about that last part, still worried about it's oily substance coating. Just one more mystery to solve. Papyrus walked with Frisk over some bridge seeds that, for some odd reason, already seemed to have been set up with the finished puzzle. He watched in silent curiosity as Frisk gathered up some more of the magical bridge seeds and sent them off one at a time down a little pond not far away, just watching them slowly drift down the water in a straight line.

“... You're not usually this quiet,” Frisk stopped mid process, holding the large bridge seed in their hands and staring up at him.

“What?” he blinked and ran a hand over his head. “Oh. Sorry, human Frisk. I... I guess I've been getting a little lost in my head lately. It's just not the same without anyone else around.”

“It is nice and quiet, at least,” Frisk finished up with the puzzle, wandering around close to a stone wall and traversing over the bridge seed. Papyrus followed close behind, pausing for a moment to gaze down at his reflection in the water. Frisk kept on going without him but he couldn't seem to look away from the still water, darkened by the dreariness of the room, water almost entirely unbroken aside from a couple of drips and drops from the stalactites hanging from above, sending tiny ripples through his reflection. He didn't realize just how utterly exhausted he looked until really drinking it in. his eye sockets were dark, his shoulders were slumped, and the uncharacteristic frown seemed to be making itself a permanent fixture on his features. He tried to force a smile and I physically hurt to do so, like the mere act of putting on a genuine smile was draining the life from him. So he dropped the attempt and just stared down into the water for the longest time, hands hanging imply by himself.

It was just before he turned away, almost a bare moment and very nearly unnoticed, but just as he was shifting away he could have _sworn_ that he saw his reflection _wink_ at him.

Papyrus was suddenly much less interested in looking into the water anymore. A gnawing anxiety began to inch its way in from the corners of his mind, like he would turn around and find his dream doppelganger just _there_ waiting for him, and his soul was pounding in his chest as he dared a quick glance around. Fortunately, there was nobody around but him and the human, and they seemed utterly oblivious to his personal dilemmas and potential hallucinations. At least, he _hoped_ they were illusions, the alternative felt thoroughly more upsetting. So he quietly followed the human to a dead end room where there was nothing more than the end of the little stream of water where the bridge seeds sat, an echo flower sprouting up in the middle of the room and an unexpectedly well kept wooden bench that only showed mild deterioration from the constant dampness of Waterfall.

Papyrus let out a weary breath and dropped into the bench, leaning back and listening to the wood groan. Frisk stared at him for a moment before digging under the bench and pulling something out covered in a thin plastic wrap.

“What have you got there?” Papyrus inquired tiredly, arms crossed over his chest. Frisk just unwrapped it and clambered up onto the bench beside him. They tossed away the plastic and Papyrus grunted in frustration, putting off the impulse to tell them off for being a little litterbug.

“Quiche,” Frisk held up the pastry with both hands, as if that explained all of his questions.

“What is a quiche doing under a bench in the middle of nowhere?” he balked at them as they pulled a piece of the crust away and popped it into their mouth. Frisk only shrugged.

“Dunno. It's always here though.”

“... Here,” he motioned as they struggled to pull the tart apart with their fingers. Frisk looked uncertainly at him for a second before finally relinquishing their prize, and Papyrus summoned a small sharp bone knife in one hand. He regretted not having the immense power and strength of someone like Undyne, that would likely rocket him to the top of the royal guard in no time. But what he did have was finesse, he could make all sorts of handy things with his magic. And in this particular situation, a bone knife. He evenly cut the quiche into as even slices as he could, dissipating the magic knife with a click of his fingers and pulling out a neat little slice, which they took in both hands and shoveled into their mouth.

“Don't just _hork_ it down,” Papyrus scolded them, giving them pause yet again. “It's a pastry, a treat. You're supposed to slow down for a second and _enjoy_ it, Frisk.”

“I don't really care about _enjoying_ food...” Frisk rolled their eyes. “Food is supposed to keep you alive. It doesn't matter if it tastes good or not.”

“Well, maybe you just haven't found something that you really like?” he offered, taking a small slice of the quiche for himself. It really was pretty good, all things considered. He didn't usually trust random food that he found under a bench, but Frisk didn't seem to have a problem with it. “I mean, I'm always happy to cook for you, you know. I happen to be a _master_ chef, nyeh heh heh.”

“You're an idiot,” Frisk deadpanned. “Your cooking could kill lesser men and I've literally had better meals eating out of the garbage.”

“You ate out of the garbage?” he blinked before it sank in. “Also, _ow_. My cooking isn't _that_ bad... is-is it? Is it really?”

“Papyrus,” Frisk stared up at him as they took another slice of quiche, actually eating this one a bit more slowly and chewing thoughtfully. “How do I put this delicately. Your spaghetti makes me want to kill myself again.”

“... Again?”

Frisk paused mid-bite and put down their unfinished slice of quiche, setting it aside on the bench. They clasped their hands together as if they were trying to hold their own hand. Their head dipped and their hair covered their eyes, and the fact that they weren't saying anything at all spoke volumes all on its own. Papyrus put down the quiche and slowly, cautiously, carefully put a hand on their shoulder, giving them a warm and gentle squeeze.

“... Do you want to talk about it?”

“There's no point.”

“I just want to understand you a little better. Tell you what,” he bargained. “We'll share. You tell me something about you, and I'll tell you something about me,” Papyrus hoped desperately to find common ground with the same person that had murdered him so many times before. Sometimes he didn't know why he tried so hard to help them, but he had to hold on to hope.

“... I didn't know what was going on on the surface,” Frisk crossed their legs underneath them. They crossed their arms over their chest and shivered, pulling their jumper a bit closer to their body for warmth. “But... I still relived a lot of days. A lot of resets. I didn't really have any control over it until I fell Underground. So for a while I just thought that I was crazy or cursed or something. You know?”

Papyrus didn't answer, but did nod once, fearful of interrupting them as they might stop talking altogether. But there was a small, pained part of him that was uncertainly hoping that this wasn't going to go in the direction that he was afraid it was.

“... Sometimes I reset for a day,” Frisk stared straight ahead, no longer paying any attention to anything around them. “Sometimes the rests were days, weeks at a time. Living with my foster parents, it was... hell. It was _hell_,” they seethed openly, scowl growing on their lips. “Some days I would say the wrong thing, or be in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was especially bad if I tried to use what I knew would happen to tell anybody. They told me I was crazy, locked me in my room for a couple of weeks before the next reset happened. Almost starved to death that way. Another time I told them about how I found out my foster dad was sleeping around with the neighbor. He beat me half to death and choked me until I blacked out. And Karen, she just... laughed. I guess it must have reset or something because then the day started all over again. A lot of resets were like that on the surface. Monsters kill humans because they want my soul. Humans? Humans don't want to take your soul. They just want to _break_ it. Corrupt you and tear you apart from the inside out until you're just a hollowed out, empty, dead eyed husk like them. They're all the same,” Frisk finished bitterly, rocking back and forth on their seat. “Doesn't matter. Nothing matters.”

Papyrus tried to speak, he really did. But the tightness in his throat was so overwhelming that he couldn't do much more than choke out a weak, strangled noise. The burning tears streamed down his bony cheeks and Frisk seemed downright shocked at the response from him, inching away and staring at his display. He stuttered to speak, unable to bring himself to do so; he wiped his eye sockets with the backs of his gloves, taking a long, unsteady and wavering breath before finally managing to get himself under control.

“Stars above,” he rasped. “I... I'm sorry. I truly am so, so sorry little one,” he placed a large hand on their shoulder and they flinched before relaxing a little.

“It's fine,” Frisk shrugged and looked away. “You get used to it.”

Papyrus slowly, gently took their hands in is own, fighting back tears as he struggled to maintain some semblance of maturity even when every bone in his body was crying out at once.

“... I won't let anyone ever, _ever_ hurt you like that again,” he stated in a soft tone. Frisk still wouldn't look at him for the longest time, but finally met his gaze.

“Why do you care?”

“What kind of person would I be if I didn't?” Papyrus answered their question with one of his own. “Listen, little one... you have been through some absolutely terrible things,” his soul felt like it were being squeezed. “A lot of resets ago, I promised to take care of you. And the Great Papyrus _always_ keeps his promises,” he tilted their chin up, and they were giving him a very strange look. “You don't have to worry about any humans like that down here. If... if you want, I could take care of you.”

“You mean, like...?”

“Like a family,” he nodded. “I know things have been absolutely crazy lately, but what family isn't? It sounds like the humans you landed with weren't exactly the best influence on you. And I think I understand a little bit better about why you are the way you are. But, if you want,” he offered softly. “I will do my best to take care of you. You can have a better life down here – a _good_ life. I can show you that the world isn't all that bad, so long as you have some good friends, some loving family, and some good food to help get you through the day.”

“... I don't really like playing house,” Frisk shifted awkwardly, probably the most flustered he had ever seen them. “But if that's what floats your boat, sure. At least it's something new.”

“Then welcome to the family, human Frisk!” Papyrus patted them on the head firmly, desperately hoping to pull the conversation away from the rather dark, depressing places that it had started to go.

“But I shit you not,” Frisk gave him a deadpan stare. “If you try to force any more of that god awful spaghetti down my throat, I'm going on another killing spree.”

“... I will make it my mission to improve my cooking then,” he cleared his throat uneasily. “But, if I might ask, _please_ do make an effort to cut back on the murder? I'm really serious about that.”

And Frisk just chuckled and shook their head, giving him one of those strange, tilted little smiles.

“... Well?” Frisk started.

“Well, what?”

“I shared something about myself,” they pulled their legs up underneath them to sit cross legged on the bench, leaning back against the wood. “That means you have to share, too.”

“Oh,” he blinked, having almost completely forgotten. “Well, nyerm... what would you like to know, human?”

“I've only got about a billion questions,” Frisk rolled their hand through the air. “You already said you don't know why you're stuck in this time loop with me. I shared some pretty personal stuff there. Now it's your turn.”

“... I'm afraid almost every single day,” he admitted after a moment.

“Afraid?” Frisk balked. “You're a _monster_. You _live_ here, you don't have to get attacked every five minutes. What do you possibly have to be afraid of?”

“I'm... I'm not as brave as I want to come off as,” he fidgeted with his scarf. “I'm not strong, or clever, or courageous. I just... I put up a front,” Papyrus answered honestly, turning down to look into the water, where his waving reflection stared judgmentally back at him. “I'm not some fantastical hero out of a story book, no matter how much I wish I was. I'm worried about my friends. My family. My loved ones. Every single day, I'm worried that I won't be there to protect them. To defend them and make people proud, to make people really believe in the hero that I want to be. But I don't even know _how_ to be a hero!” he blurted, running a hand over his head. He took a deep breath and steadied himself, trying to clear his mind and closing his eye sockets for a moment.

“And I'm...” he struggled for a second. “I'm tired. I'm so _tired_, Frisk. Every single day I get up, and I pretend that today, that _this_ day is going to be better than yesterday, and every single day I'm lying to myself. And I just don't know how much longer I can keep doing it. I feel like...” he interlocked his fingers and pulled, fighting with his thoughts. “I feel like I'm coming apart at the seams. But no matter how tired I am, no matter how much I want to give up, I just... _can't_. People _need_ a hero. And... and I want to be a hero. To someone. Anyone. Even if it's just once, Frisk.”

They sat in complete silence for what felt like ages, the half finished quiche sat aside and forgotten, the two of them simply bearing the silence like a quilt draped over them.

“... You called me Frisk.”

“Sorry?”

“You called me Frisk,” they repeated, their head tilted slightly to the side. “Not human. You called me Frisk.”

“I... well, that is your name, isn't it?”

“Sometimes,” they chortled darkly. But then they shook their head and gave a small, simple smile, a genuine, warm thing that seemed to brighten up the little room just a bit.

“Well,” Frisk leaned back and put their hands behind their head comfortably. “You try your best. Fuck, dude, you try harder than anybody I've ever met. That's pretty heroic, if you ask me.”

“I...” his throat tightened just a bit and he fought down several emotions. “... Thanks, Frisk.”

“Maybe the world needs more heroes. It needs more change. And I've got this plan...” they started more to themselves than anything. “But I'll tell you that later. I just... thanks for. Well. This. All of this,” Frisk shrugged. “Thanks for everything.”

“What is family for?” he smiled warmly down at them. Frisk paused, running a hand through their mop of shaggy hair.

“... Family. I've never had a monster family before,” they nodded once. “But if it's any consolation, I think you're already leagues better than any human families I've met. God, I don't even know _how_ this is gonna work, dude.”

“One day at a time, Frisk,” he patted them kindly on the shoulder, and this time their smile seemed just a bit more genuine. “One day at a time.”

They sat together on that bench for hours, talking amongst themselves, and for the first time in a long time, Papyrus felt just a bit more hopeful about the future, utterly unaware that he was being observed the entire time.

0-0-0-0-0


End file.
